


Nouseim Zodon

by Quantum_Reality



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-16
Updated: 2019-03-16
Packaged: 2019-06-11 05:20:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 29,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15308361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quantum_Reality/pseuds/Quantum_Reality
Summary: Octavia Blake, Blodreina, never thought she'd get a second chance. But somehow, she has been granted the opportunity to make a different fate.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! For those who are interested, the fic title is the literal translation of "Different Fate" in Trigedasleng. :)
> 
> I've been intrigued by the idea of what would happen to a Season 5 version of Octavia dealing with time travel, so this is my attempt at examining what might happen. I hope you enjoy it.
> 
> Also, note that this (up to chapter 5) was written before "The Dark Year" aired. However I had considerable evidence from internal canon and other sources what was likely to be shown in it, so you can think of Octavia's post-algae-poison dream sequence to be a kind of fanciful remix of what she's been through in canon. In case it's not clear, the "cutoff" for Octavia's canon timeline experiences is 5x08, except any Octavia-specific pre-canon experiences alluded to such as the game Octavia and Bellamy played.
> 
> I also assume some past Octavia/Niylah, as well, though it's not officially canon.
> 
> Finally, in order to try and keep to the rating of this fic, both sexual references as well as to some of the more disturbing canon references are kept indirect or vague. That said, if people feel strongly that the rating is wrong, I'll raise it up as necessary.

The voices echoed all around her, her vision distorted as though she was floating deep underwater. She could make out nothing, just shadowy shapes rippling amid a distant, hazy light.

 _Omon gon oson._ All of me for all of us.

**_Lincoln?! Where are you?!_ **

_Omon gon oson._ All of me for all of us.

**_If you are not Wonkru, you are the enemy of Wonkru!_ **

_Omon gon oson._ All of me for all of us.

**_Blodreina—Blodreina—Blodreina…_ **

_Omon gon oson!_ All of me for all of us!

As if the repetition of the ominously echoing chant had turned a key, she dropped out of the murky depths into utter clarity: she sat at a table, surrounded by several gaunt, tired-looking people. Indra stood stolidly to her left, Gaia to her right. Kane – _why did he have a beard? –_ stood at the far end, looking faintly disgusted.

A plate of what looked like charred meat sat before her. She was holding a knife and fork, and yet… but she was _Blodreina_ , the one who had forged Wonkru and held them together for years.

Still, she hesitated, swallowing against the lump in her throat. Then she spoke the ritual words: “ _Omon gon oson._ All of me for all of—”

And as if a switch had snapped into place in the middle of her sentence—

Octavia’s eyes flew open, her harsh gasps rasping in her ears as she struggled to process amid the semidarkness.

She reached out, grasping only a thin blanket; _had Niylah stolen the fur blanket again?_

Niylah would do that sometimes, tangling herself in the fur blanket. Octavia would reach for the light switch so she could disentangle her sometimes-lover—

 _Wait. there was something else, too._ She needed—needed to get Indra or Miller: deal with… never mind, she thought foggily. The light first.

Her hand shot out, hitting nothing but solid metal wall.

Octavia sat up. _What the fuck?!_

As she made to get off the bed, she grumbled, “ _Naila, taim yu don—_ ”

Octavia rolling off the edge and hitting the metal floor cut off any further remonstrations; she grunted, “Ow! That hurt!”

Pushing off the floor and ignoring her knee twinging slightly, Octavia dragged herself to her feet. She looked up, and saw the planet Earth outside a window – _her_ window. A window that shouldn’t _be there_ in the bunker.

Her knees went weak – weaker than the day Indra had first put her through her training as a _Seken_ – and she barely registered her butt hitting the prison bed, feeling as though all the air had been knocked out of her.

* * *

She spent the next while just processing, her brain struggling to come to grips with the reality of things.

_She’s on the gods-freaking-damned Ark again._

She’s sixteen years old, with practically no muscle to speak of, and all she has to herself is a small prison cell with a hard bed and a flimsy blanket. It’s as though nearly seven years hasn’t passed.

The last thing she can remember – _before_ – is seeing Bellamy’s face swimming in her vision before she collapses. She seethes as she realizes what her _natrona_ brother had done to her.

Only now—

 _If this isn’t a dream_ , Octavia wondered, _does that mean nobody else remembers except me?_

The lights slowly came up, signalling “morning” on the Ark.

The prisoners were given a laughable version of breakfast (one glass of water, and something that could barely be termed oatmeal): even so, Octavia wolfed it down before she quite realized it. Six hard years of privation dwarfing any food restrictions the Ark had ever placed on people – well, it leaves a mark. But then, oddly, she hadn’t even waited to use the ritual phrase over all-important food: was that her younger self making its way forward, mixing in some way with her mentally years-older self?

The guard left Octavia’s door open; she remembered most of the prisoners (Clarke excepted) were allowed to walk around within the prison section for a few hours out of every day if they weren’t lining up for rare visiting hours.

Shumway (that officious asshole) was stamping down the hallway, gesturing at prisoners to follow him. He stopped, seeing her at the railing staring up and down at the array of cells. He barked, “Blake. With me. Now.”

Octavia almost snorted, reaching for her sword, only to clap her hand against her hip and hitch her breath: _there’s nothing there!_

Luckily, Shumway was busy consulting his datapad and didn’t notice Octavia reaching as though she were grabbing for a weapon. She schooled her features into a facsimile of meek obeisance and dutifully walked along behind him as he gathered other prisoners—

_Jasper!_

It was all Octavia could do not to rush up and grab his shoulders, to feel for herself that he was _solid_ and _alive_ ; she managed to choke back a small sob, allowing herself only a small sniffle. A nearby guard gazed sharply at her: disease on the Ark is no laughing matter, she remembered, and she hastily excused herself with, “I thought I was going to sneeze. Sorry.”

Shumway gathered them all around the wide double doors beyond which was a classroom. Something niggled at Octavia’s mind – some warning of portents to come. She shoved that aside and pushed past the crowd of teenagers, barely registering Murphy’s presence, to grasp Jasper’s shoulder.

_He’s real – oh my God, he’s real and that means so many things—_

Jasper jerked at the sudden touch, and he nervously grinned at her. “Uh, hey. You’re that girl who was—”

“—Under the floor,” Octavia finished for him with a wry smirk. “I know. I, uh, saw your weird goggles and wanted to know where you got them.” She gestured at the aforementioned goggles now sitting on his forehead.

 _He really was kind of cute in a way_ , Octavia realized as Jasper began babbling about his adventures in clothes storage. _If it hadn’t been for Lincoln—but then again, she herself moved on from him._

Octavia pressed her lips together to keep herself under control, and Jasper, picking up her sudden somber mood, stopped his low babbling to say, “Uh, girl under the floor or whatever, are you all right?”

Octavia gave him a wan smile. “It’s Octavia. And thanks.”

Further conversation was cut short as a beardless Kane’s face briefly showed at the window as he gestured to Shumway. Octavia blinked, her complex feelings about her mentor-yet-enemy stirring to the surface as the teenagers trooped into the classroom. He showed no sign of recognition; Octavia couldn't see any guilt for covering up for Abby; no indication that the crises he dealt with since the Ark went into terminal decline molded his sensitivities as Chancellor and advisor.

“Let’s go; take a seat,” she heard dimly as she walked forward.

The past slammed into Octavia again as she looked over Jasper’s shoulder and made eye contact with Charles Pike.

A snarl formed on Octavia’s face before she could quite wipe it off, and Pike reared back just a bit, startled at her hostility. She shook her head, almost physically trying to shake loose the blast of memory as she tried not to see him in her mind’s eye, a gun held to a kneeling Lincoln’s head in a macabre display of last rites before an execution.

By comparison, meeting eyes with Thelonious Jaha was almost mundane. _We made death the enemy_ echoed through her mind.

She hurriedly grabbed the seat next to Jasper, who high-fived himself at getting to sit next to a hot girl. Octavia snickered, grateful for that moment of levity in giving her time to recenter herself, remembering the meditations Indra and Gaia taught her when the hard times came.

Octavia, out the corner of her eye, watched as the Chancellor and Councillors left, and Pike began his lesson. _I will not murder him in cold blood_ , she reminded herself.

“Welcome to Earth Skills,” Pike announced.

He began taking them through what she now knew to be a crash course in Earth Skills designed to try and give the Delinquents _some_ kind of training for when they would land in about – as near as Octavia reckoned it, ten days or so.

Her meditations were mostly successful, and Pike’s voice during his introductory lecture mostly became a low droning sound she let her subconscious handle if she really needed to have a refresher lesson on how to live on Earth. Never mind, as she mentally rolled her eyes, that she spent several months above the ground learning Trikru ways which went far beyond anything Pike could possibly have to show them.

Miller’s chair clattered, and Octavia managed to muffle a giggle as Pike looked up, irritated. She remembered last time being actually somewhat intrigued by his lessons; fire was never a thing she’d been allowed to see, and it had taken on almost legendary dimensions after Bellamy had read to her the myth of Prometheus.

(“ _And O, did you know they also named an artificial element after him? They called it Promethium, because it was like doing what only the gods could do before…_ ”)

Octavia’s stomach twisted unpleasantly as she saw Bellamy’s face in her mind’s eye again. She wondered what she would say – what she _could_ say to him.

Part of her had become the sixteen-year-old again when he’d descended out of the Pit’s ceiling, like a successful Icarus returning from flying near the sun.

But then—

No. _No more_ , Octavia reminded herself. Choking up in the middle of Pike’s lesson would get her the wrong kind of attention.

The flame coming alive entranced the students, and Jasper grinned, leaning forward to get a better view. Even Octavia, despite herself, gazed at the small flame, remembering many a time when a larger version of such had given desperately needed light and hope.

Murphy’s slow clap startled Octavia; she jumped a bit in her seat as she whirled around and tried to give him her best _Blodreina_ glare. He caught her eye, then looked back at Pike and shifted uneasily in his chair, managing to dredge up another arrogant smirk.

“Who can tell me the key to surviving on the ground? Mr. Murphy?” said Pike stolidly.

Octavia remembered now – the last time, she’d hesitated, uncomfortable at the sudden attention on her, and then had to endure the titters of laughter from the others.

His speech hadn’t been wrong, all things considered: fighting at all costs against all odds had, as it so dreadfully turned out, been required _every day_ in that damn bunker. Every person in Wonkru had had to do their part, and Octavia most of all. For Six. Damn. Years.

Being _Blodreina_ had cost her so, _so_ much. Especially during the Dark Year.

Even as Murphy was blathering on, Octavia sat up straight and barked in his direction, “Knock it off, Murphy!”

The classroom fell dead silent as all eyes turned to her. Octavia met Pike’s eyes levelly and, calling up every bit of her warrior training, spoke in a tone of utter finality, her voice ringing out to every corner of the room. “You fight. Every day. No matter what the cost. And maybe, just maybe, at the end of it all, it’ll have been worth something.”

That was what she had promised Wonkru.

And what she had failed to deliver.

That all their hard-won sacrifices – what they had had to do, what _she_ had had to do – would be worth it when one day they would return to the Earth once more.

In the end, it had been worth nothing.

Because of _fucking Diyoza_.

Octavia nearly snarled again but held herself as Pike, leaning against the glass enclosure now snuffing out the fire, now stood up and nodded, apparently impressed despite himself. “Ms. Blake is absolutely correct. That’s what you all will have to do one day: you’ll need to fight for survival. Everything you will need to live will have to come from your own efforts, and we have so much to cover – how to tie knots, how to navigate by the stars, how to hunt, which plants are safe to eat – the list goes on.”

Octavia’s timely pinching of Jasper’s leg just above the knee had caused him to utter a slight yelp instead of his smart-ass comment about which plants were smokable. She didn’t have time for their silly antics; she just needed to endure these lessons and get back to Earth as soon as possible.

There was so much to change. For everyone who had no idea what lay ahead.

Lincoln _must_ live. Lexa must _not_ betray them at the Mountain.

ALIE 1.0 must _never_ happen.

 _Praimfaya_ must be averted.

And if not, four hundred people must _not_ lose their lives to a bunker that had threatened to cage in Wonkru for the rest of their natural lives.

And she was going to personally kill Charmaine Diyoza when she landed in seven years’ time: _jus drein jus daun_.

 _Nouseim zodon_ , thought Octavia. A different fate for everyone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Naila, taim yu don— : Niylah, if you've—


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to try and pick up the narrative pacing a bit, but there will be unavoidably exposition-y segments as we go. Also, I'm finding I'm writing a very introspective Octavia, who's finding that with the new lease she has on life, she has to turn over and question all the things she's done in her "past" (which is now technically her future), and fit that in with the world that's now unfolding anew before her. I hope you all like how she's turning out; I know I like exploring her thought processes! :)

The next few days were much as Octavia remembered from… well, _before_ – if she had to name the old life she’d led that she now seemed to be leading again.

One thing that _had_ changed was that the other teenage prisoners looked at her with a kind of respect. And Jasper, whose apparent slight crush on her had gotten started even earlier, now found every excuse to hang around her if he could, when he wasn’t also bantering with Monty.

And speaking of whom, Octavia had welcomed the chance to reconnect with him again as well. She remembered little of his time in the bunker, but she dimly recalled that he and the Harper girl had stayed together during all their time on the Ark after escaping _Praimfaya_.

Maybe she could get that kick-started as well.

But back to Jasper. He was standing next to her at the railing just outside her cell, and making some sort of joke about having a farm with more plants than the entire Ark had in its hydroponics section on Farm Station.

Octavia turned to look at him and marvelled at this version of Jasper Jordan: he had never been speared in the chest, never had his girlfriend torn away from him in a desperate battle to vanquish a dangerous enemy, had never finally given up and taken his own life before the world ended.

His slightly awkward grin was an obvious attempt to remain cool around her, and the sheer innocence of it all stirred an impulse in her that hadn’t been there for years.

She put her hand on his shoulder and said, “Jasper, you make the silliest, corniest damn jokes,” then leaned in to press a kiss to his cheek.

The dumbfounded look on his face as he brought his hand up to brush his cheek where she’d kissed him shifted _something_ in Octavia, and she found herself vainly pressing her lips together to stop from giggling. That barrier – that _something_ had been eroding already since seeing Jasper's corny antics the other day – but this was the final push.

And inevitably, the dam broke – a dam that had been within _Blodreina_ for all those years, and a weight seemed to fall from her shoulders as she half-collapsed against the railing, peals of laughter escaping her as she staggered back into her open cell to rest on the bed.

Jasper, utter confusion on his face, followed her inside and tentatively reached out. “Uh, Octavia? Are you okay? I didn’t think I was—”

Octavia, by now reduced to gasping and wheezing, waved him off and managed to get out, “Sorry, Jasper –  I – I needed that!”

Perplexed, Jasper sat next to her on her bed and said, “I’m not sure why.”

Octavia, by now able to sober up, took a fortifying breath and looked him in the eye, preparing to tell him what she could of her life without inadvertently giving away things she should have no idea about. “I don’t know if I can make you understand, but my life – it wasn’t easy. I’ve never really had anything like what you’ve had: friends, acquaintances, even just _room_ to get out and do things. All I had was – was Bellamy, and my mom when she had the time. And I didn’t even really have my own space, unless you count under the floor when inspections happened.

“And then you come along and you do those silly self high fives with Monty and you crack jokes about plants and just … you’re showing me what _not_ being deadly serious looks like. Bellamy – my brother – he can really do the serious thing very well.” (Which wasn’t even a total lie. God knew Bellamy could be broody as hell even before he hit the ground and became Pike’s lackey.)

Octavia reached for Jasper’s hand. “I’m not promising to be your girlfriend or anything, but I want you to know I always feel lighter and less… just, all serious-business, I guess, when I’m hanging around you and Monty.”

Jasper’s face was now becoming somewhat red, and he stammered something that vaguely sounded like, “That’s cool.”

Octavia dropped his hand and ruffled his hair, grinning as she did so. “C’mon. Let’s go walk around this prison before they stuff us back in these cells. Grab Monty, we can try to make a game out of it or something.”

She stepped forward and turned back, beckoning for Jasper to follow. He seemed to come back to himself and muttered, “Uh, right!” as he got up and joined her.

As luck had it, the trio, wandering along the prison level just below Octavia’s cell, happened to notice Harper leaning against the wall inside her cell. Octavia called, “Hey. What’s wrong?”

Harper looked up, saw the trio, and smiled wanly. “I just miss my dad. He’s sick and missed last visiting day.”

“Bummer,” groaned Monty. “If it helps, you wanna hang out with us for a bit?”

Harper waved at the inside of her cell. “Not much going on here, so yeah, come on in.”

The foursome sat down on the floor of Harper’s cell, Octavia contriving to make sure Monty sat near Harper while she sat near Jasper and they all introduced themselves.

Octavia broke the ice, saying, “So what’re you all in for, anyway? Me, it’s pretty obvious: I existed.”

“That’s so _weird_ ,” replied Harper. She caught herself and blushed. “Um, I didn’t mean you’re weird, Octavia. Sorry.”

Octavia waved that off. “I know what you’re saying. Having a brother or sister is supposed to not even be a thing, but my mom pulled it off and here I am.”

Jasper chuckled. “Well, Monty and I, we were busted because _someone_ forgot to replace some special plants before the inventory check.”

Monty rolled his eyes. “And _someone_ has apologized like a zillion times.”

Harper said softly, “I got caught trying to steal medicine for my dad. They would only let him have so much and it seemed to help, but he never got quite _enough_ , and I just thought…” She trailed off with a small sniffle.

When Monty didn’t make a move to comfort her, Octavia socked him briefly on the shoulder farthest away from Harper. At his shocked look, she pointed at him, then at her.

Awkwardly, Monty reached out and put his hand on Harper’s shoulder. “Uh, hey. It’s okay. You’re with friends.”

Harper gave him a watery smile, then sat up straighter and said brightly, “Well, _that_ was depressing. What d’you think they suddenly put us in an Earth Skills class for? It’s not like we had much use for it in our regular classes.”

Monty, dropping his hand again, mused, “Maybe just to give us something to do?”

Jasper shrugged. “Sure beats just aimlessly walking all the time, or staring at the walls.”

Octavia frowned in apparent concentration. “You don’t think they could be considering sending us down to Earth?”

The other three stared at her for a moment, then burst out laughing as one. Octavia allowed herself a small chuckle as well, since it was an article of faith on the Ark that the radiation levels on Earth were still too high to safely merit going down.

Harper gasped out, “That’s a good one, Octavia!”

The conversation soon moved into other channels, and Octavia let herself get drawn into the other three talking of such simple, ordinary things. She could even forget for a time that all of them would soon be tested in ways they couldn’t even imagine.

* * *

Over the next few days, Octavia connected (or reconnected, as it were) with several of the other teenage prisoners, in particular Monroe, who had proven an enthusiastic student under Lincoln in his fitness and fight training sessions in those quiet three months after the Mountain fell. Word of Octavia’s ability to verbally hold her own with Pike had gotten around, and put against her tendency to shy away from attention before, the change in her had definitely raised her esteem in others’ eyes.

Jasper continued to dote on her, and truth be told, Octavia could see how Maya Vie was charmed by him. She wasn’t really sure what kind of relationship she wanted with Jasper, especially as the sticky point could be if he thought it was different than what she wanted. Octavia decided to wait until they were on the ground to have a really frank discussion about his relationship goals, but was pleased to see he took no liberties around her body just because she’d once kissed him on the cheek.

Also, Octavia allowed, there was a difference between a purely physical need for closeness, and an emotional connection that might or might not go along with that.

All that was secondary to Octavia’s medium and long term plans. Having no writing instruments at all, she had to do it all mentally (and there was also the fact that writing stuff down about the future was always a dangerous business).

In the medium term, she decided, she needed to avert some of the early problems they’d had with the grounders. And pure compassion dictated that she try to keep Jasper from being speared in the damn chest, period. No wonder he’d developed such a case of PTSD before _Praimfaya_ hit.

So if she could rein in Bellamy and help Clarke, there was a good chance she might be able to seek out Lincoln and get him to help broker a truce with Anya. Springboarding off of that, letting Lexa know the Ark was going to come down so they could get started going after the Mountain right away. Too many people had suffered in the Mountain and she would not add her friends to that tally if she could possibly avoid it.

Somewhere in there, she needed to make sure Raven had her radio, and she needed to find out from the mechanical genius whether or not they could shut down the nuclear reactors or at least in some way avert _Praimfaya_ , or if not, at least weaken its impact.

Octavia’s stomach twisted unpleasantly at the thought of spending five more years in the bunker, even if she didn’t have to become _Blodreina_. No-one should _ever_ go through what they had had to go through in the Dark Year. And Octavia devoutly prayed she would never have to run another tally every night of who was still alive and who was not.

_Eight hundred and fourteen…_

Octavia squeezed her eyes shut at that number echoing through her mind. She sighed and turned to a thought she’d been purposely avoiding, since at least it was not that dreadful number:

 _Echo_.

If she really, really, forced herself to sit down and think, she could reason out that her dislike was fundamentally irrational. Yes, Echo _had_ literally stuck a sword in her, and yes, she _had_ almost died, and Echo _had_ helped cheat at the last conclave, but all that had been in service of what she thought was the greater good of Azgeda, and it was clear that Echo had been willing to go to great lengths in service of whoever or whatever she believed she should stick with. Who else would go _on foot_ in dangerous radiation levels to try and find Bellamy and hopefully appeal to him to let her come with them? Echo’s level of loyalty was a very powerful force, whoever it was directed towards.

It still didn’t stop Octavia’s fists from clenching as she imagined the Azgeda woman once again falling in love with Bellamy.

And Bellamy—

 _Natrona ba seimtaim ai bro_.

He’d poisoned her in that… _before_ world.

And clearly, he’d managed to kill her.

Only she wasn’t dead, and for an afterlife, the world Octavia was living in now was astonishingly detailed a replica of the one she knew she’d been living in before going to the ground.

And to be _absolutely_ fair, Octavia had to admit she’d also once knocked him out in service of what _she_ thought was a greater good.

Octavia let out a huff of air through her nostrils and shook her head at how complex their relationship had become after she’d gotten to Earth. And she hadn’t even gotten to see him yet. That, she decided, would be their moment of truth.

The rest was just a matter of marking time until they got on the dropship – but first, she had a small score to settle with Charles Pike.

* * *

Just as Pike was about to slap Murphy, Octavia got out of her seat and barked, “Don’t hit him.”

Pike turned and looked at her. He growled, “What did you say?”

Octavia stood her ground. “I said don’t hit him. Does it make you feel good to beat up someone weaker than yourself?”

Octavia’s eyes flicked around, reading the room as well as Pike’s stance. Her one advantage, she knew, was that he would underestimate her. She didn’t have the muscle mass she’d managed to acquire on the ground, but she still had muscle memory from both unarmed and armed combat. She had one good chance, and by _god_ she would take it. This version of Pike might not deserve to be killed since he hadn’t massacred three hundred people, but he _was_ about to bully Murphy and Octavia was having none of it.

“If you don’t sit down this instant, Ms. Blake, you will regret it.”

Octavia snorted. “Make me.”

Pike lunged, and in that instant, Octavia’s fist snapped out, throwing every last bit of force she could muster behind that attack.

Her fist landed true, and even with her reduced strength, Octavia felt the satisfying clash of her fist with Pike’s jaw, throwing him sideways just to her left as she dodged right, sending him crashing into the table at the front of the room amid the uproar echoing around the room as the teenagers reacted in surprise and amazement.

Not one to waste an advantage, Octavia bellowed over the yelling, “Someone, throw me something!”

Jasper called, “Here!”

A block of wood sailed towards her, and Octavia held her hand high, snatching it out of the air. She hefted it briefly, grinned, and as Pike was about to recover, she went in for another roundhouse blow at his skull, knocking him unconscious just as Kane barged into the room and bellowed, “What the hell is going on here?!”

Octavia dropped the wood at once and stared directly at Kane. She announced, “Councillor Kane, Charles Pike was bullying John Murphy. I told him to stop and he didn’t listen, so I made him listen.”

Kane growled and ground out, “If you weren’t already—” He seemed to realize what he was about to give away, and hurriedly turned to the guards. “This class is finished. Guards, escort everybody back to their cells and get Charles some medical attention, _now_!”

Octavia’s only response was to grin broadly and rub her sore right hand. “Believe me, he deserved it,” she announced to the room at large.

Even amid the muted atmosphere afterwards, she still caught a sizable number of fellow teenagers smiling at her. She’d stood up to an adult and won!

* * *

She was on the dropship again, feeling the slight shudder as it detached from the Ark, followed by a short rocket burst to propel it in the direction of the Earth. Another small jitter later, and Octavia could hear Clarke wondering what it was, with Wells telling her it was atmosphere.

The lights came up, and Jaha’s face came up on the monitor. Octavia rolled her eyes and tuned out the message he was giving them. She watched her fellow prisoners-turned-guinea-pigs and when she caught Finn Collins doing a zero-G somersault, she called, “Hey, Spacewalker! You might wanna get back in your seat!”

Finn rolled his eyes at her and went back to snarking at Wells and Clarke.

Octavia kept an eye on the guy in her row; he was fiddling with his belt buckle. She bellowed in her most authoritative voice, “Get that back on and don’t argue!”

He stared, wide-eyed, and re-secured himself in his seat, and Octavia let out a small sigh of relief as she sat back in her chair, re-checking her restraints. It was going to be a bumpy ride, and if she could at least keep one more person alive this time around—

Right on cue, the dropship jerked as the parachutes deployed, and sparks began flying as the ship was bounced about, the chutes straining to slow the ship’s descent but not efficiently enough. The rumbling got worse and louder, until finally – almost too late, Octavia knew – the retrorockets fired, smoothing the landing a bit as the lights flickered, ending with a final loud jarring thump, followed by the engine noise dying away as the ship settled.

The lights slowly came back on, and everybody began looking around a bit uncertainly. Octavia, though, having already been through it once and in no mood to mess about, began unbuckling her restraints even as Monty half-whispered, “No machine noise.”

Octavia got up and called, “Hey, blonde girl! You’re Clarke Griffin, right? I heard about you, locked up in solitary.”

Clarke got out of her seat and called back, “I am. Who’re you?”

Someone snickered. “That’s Octavia Blake. She fucking _wasted_ Pike, man!”

Clarke looked at her in shock. “You? What the hell were you doing fighting with Pike?!”

Octavia waved that off. “Long story.” She walked up to Clarke and said, “You know anything about medicine? ‘Cause I think I saw Spacewalker guy fly around somewhere.”

Clarke’s eyes went wide, and amid the massed sounds of belts unbuckling and clothes rustling, she rushed over and called, “Finn?! Are you okay?”

Finn was slowly sitting up from behind a row of seats opposite Octavia’s side of the ship, and Clarke knelt next to him, gently turning his head this way and that to check for injuries. He muttered, “Check the other guy. He crashed into me.”

Octavia’s breath hitched. She began lightly bouncing on the balls of her feet, unconsciously mimicking a combat stance she’d used for several years.

Clarke looked down at the person lying in Finn’s lap, and as she leaned over to check, Octavia could hear a low groan and a muttered, “What the hell was that?”

Clarke’s shoulders seemed to sag in relief. Octavia's tenseness uncoiled as well, and she went to the ladder which would take them down one level. Meanwhile, Clarke ordered, “Finn, stay here and make sure he’s all right. I’ve got to go make sure everybody else is okay. I don’t want to open the doors yet.” Clarke spotted Octavia waving her over, and she went to descend the ladder.

With that, Octavia followed right behind Clarke as the teenagers moved _en masse_ to the lower level. As soon as Octavia’s feet hit the floor, she began looking around: Bellamy, she knew, was going to pull rank—

A familiar head of brown-black hair stood near the doors and called loudly, “Hey! Back it up there, you guys!”

Just as Bellamy was about to reach up for the lever, Clarke raced up to him, calling out, “Stop! The air could be toxic!”

Octavia, following right behind, shouldering her way past the crowded teenagers, stopped cold as she saw her brother anew.

Bellamy, in his turn, was about to make some smart remark to Clarke when he turned his head slightly, taking in Octavia. His eyes wide, he breathed, “O! I haven’t seen you in a year! You’re so tall now!”

Tears pricked at Octavia’s eyes.

More than almost any man in her life, Bellamy had been her greatest hero and her worst villain.

 _What right_ , she wondered, _had this man to smile at her as though he hadn’t laid waste to a Grounder village, sabotaged a water-producing machine, taken up with_ that woman _, and then poisoned her in the name of a greater good?_

And yet—

He wasn’t _any_ of those things.

Not yet.

And maybe never.

Yes, he was impulsive, brash, overprotective, and kind of an ass at times, but he was _Bellamy_. And as though her feet had minds of their own, she found herself rushing to him, her arms enveloping him in a hug.

She buried her face in his shoulder for a moment, not wanting him to see her suspiciously wet eyes; she breathed in, catching the familiar worn-leather-and-plastic smell of his guard’s uniform.

Bellamy slowly eased her backwards a bit, still embracing her so he could see her. He smiled broadly. Octavia flicked his uniform lapel. “What’re you doing with this, Bellamy?”

His eyes got a bit shifty as he answered, “I borrowed a guard uniform to get on the dropship.”

Octavia’s brain, were it a car, would’ve screeched to a halt in dead neutral.

_Shit!_

Shit shit shit double _shit!_

Octavia could’ve kicked herself.

That was the thing her brain was warning her about the first day she arrived in the _after_ world – Bellamy had shot Jaha on Shumway’s orders so he could get onto the dropship!

She could’ve warned someone, somehow – made sure that even if Bellamy _had_ shot Jaha, that he’d survive.

 _Damnit_ , Octavia snarled to herself, _Now I have to worry that busting Pike’s noggin might cause a ripple effect on Jaha’s survival, and who knew what havoc that could wreak on the timetable for Raven’s descent._ She tried to calm herself, but she knew she could ill afford to let history unfold before her without keeping a close eye on things.

Bellamy was looking at her inquisitively. “Hey, why the frown? We’re on the ground, Octavia. C’mon, let’s be the first out on the ground in a hundred years.”

Octavia took a calming breath and reminded herself, _What's done is done._

At least the peanut gallery wasn’t making dumb remarks like last time just guaranteed to piss her off.

As Bellamy reached up for the lever, Clarke came up to them and pleaded, “We can’t be sure we’ll survive. Please, be careful.”

Octavia reached out, clasping Clarke’s arm. She smiled and said, “If the air was toxic, I think we’d already be breathing some of it in, so I think we’ll be all right.”

Clarke looked surprised, then realization crossed her face as she must have thought about the somewhat rickety condition the ship had been in to start with.

Octavia thumped Bellamy’s shoulder. “Pull the lever already, huh?”

With that, the door opened, and the fresh, fragrant smells of mid-autumn rushed past Octavia as the air hissed past the crowd. She breathed deeply, feeling the warm natural sunlight on her face.

 _This is how it should have been for Wonkru._ This _should have been our reward for six years of struggle._

Any further thoughts along those lines would send Octavia into an unending sea of morose thoughts, so she ruthlessly clamped down on that train of thought and opened her eyes to take in the beautiful greenery that surrounded them.

She stamped boldly down the ramp and jumped off onto the ground, throwing her hands in the air as she yelled, “ _We’re back, bitches!_ ”

The cheers of joy welling up in her ears lifted her spirits, knowing that some of the people now happily milling about on the ground had been her steadfast companions in the bunker; her eye caught Miller, her one-time trusted guard, beaming as he wandered about, craning his neck to see how high the trees went. He and the others – their younger selves, at least, would deservedly reap the reward they were entitled to.

And damned if she wouldn’t find a way to make it better for _everyone_ this time around as well, no matter the cost to herself.

She looked around at her fellow teenagers, and at the world beyond them. In that moment, she swore a promise to every person in _Kongeda_ and on the Ark:

 _Omon gon oyon._ All of me for all of you.

_If that’s what it takes, so be it._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Natrona ba seimtaim ai bro. : Traitor but also my brother.
> 
> A word on shipping: I'm purposely leaving it kind of up in the air, since this Octavia has had to conceive of herself as a leader without the ability to form long-term attachments based on emotional connections. She's still in that mindset, so as she explains to herself, she probably is looking more for physical closeness than anything that satisfies on the emotional as well as the physical level.
> 
> That may change when she meets Lincoln, or it may not.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Hope you're continuing to like the fic. I'm going to be sticking very strictly to Octavia's point of view in this fic, so there will be things happening 'offstage', and which may or may not be the same as in canon. Since the perspective is from her alone, it may not be clear until much later that something has changed in a way that's beyond her control. We'll see how that plays out as the fic goes on.
> 
> Also, again, this Octavia is pretty rational for all that Season 5 shows her rather close to the edge of things. Being yanked out of that situation has, in a way, been like shock detox therapy, since it's allowing her to reframe and process without any elements of the 'present' to keep her moored to old ways of thinking that no longer apply in her second chance at things.

_Obsession._

A word Octavia had had occasion to turn over in her mind a lot since ‘returning’ to the Ark by a mechanism she was still unsure of. Whatever was in that poison Bellamy had used must have had a very profound effect on her mind, that much Octavia could be certain about.

And she could, with some hesitation, honestly say that mania had driven her for several years – most crucially, in those final days after the bunker had been broken open. She still recoiled in horror at the thought of re-entering the bunker; the very thought of re-entering its bowels twisted her stomach in such utter loathing that she would rather go into Mount Weather with only a knife.

But it was clear, Octavia decided, that she had been irrational about other things besides Echo: her desperation to fight Diyoza and her forces – the utterly crackpot, risky and dangerous use of the mutated worms – even what she’d allowed Cooper to do to people from Wonkru in the name of that war.

That kind of irrationalism had no place in this world made anew for her. Even so, wondered Octavia, would the lingering echoes of _Blodreina_ always be there, lingering in the back of her mind?

Octavia rubbed her upper arm absently, feeling for a scar that wouldn’t be there, as her mind slowly returned to the crowd of teenagers determined to frolic in the forest for as long as their energy would hold out.

Then her eye caught Bellamy, arms crossed as he stood, surveying the group of delinquents. She could almost see the wheels turning in his head as he looked to see who he could whisper his honeyed words of freedom (at the price of complete anarchy) to in order to gain followers. Followers he’d need to establish a power base for his plot to keep the Ark away.

She allowed herself a little smirk as she strode up to Bellamy. “Hey, big brother. Why the long face?”

Bellamy grimaced. “You’re down here with a bunch of criminals.”

Octavia snorted in laughter. “ _I’m_ a criminal, too. Or did you forget?”

“Still, O.” Bellamy took her by the arm, pulling her in a bit. “We should get out of here. I—I did something to get on the dropship.”

Octavia frowned. “Did you shoot somebody to get on that ship?”

Bellamy’s lips tightened and his Adam’s apple bobbed. Octavia, with the benefit of fifteen years of having been within a couple of meters of him at all times, knew _exactly_ what that meant: it was the same expression he got when Octavia had called him out on not knowing as much about a Greek myth as he’d claimed. He was going to try and deny it, but it was still true.

Octavia pressed her advantage. “You did, didn’t you?” She hissed, “Damnit, Bellamy, if you shot someone high in the Council or something, they’re gonna be out for your blood!”

Before Bellamy could answer, an argument broke out nearby, which, if Octavia remembered correctly, had to do with the Ark’s lack of communications and getting to Mount Weather. She thumped Bellamy in the stomach (not hard enough to hurt, but enough to remind him she wasn’t done with him) and muttered, “We are _not_ finished.”

She turned to approach Wells and Clarke, and saw Murphy approaching Jasper, who was near the other two.

Octavia’s back stiffened and she marched over as she barked, “ _Hey!_ ”

Her tone brooked no argument and everybody turned to look at her. She stood now, a few feet away from Wells, and spoke loudly and clearly, her every word echoing out over the delinquents’ vicinity. “John Murphy, stay away from Jasper. I don’t care who else you wanna get into your little gang, but not him.”

She stared, hard, at Murphy, who had the good grace to mumble something that might or might not have been an apology, and then step back.

Octavia turned to Wells and said in a less harsh, but still authoritative, tone, “You wanna go to Mount Weather, right?”

Wells gave her the ghost of a smile. “You all heard my father’s message. You, too, Octavia. We need to get those supplies.”

Clarke stepped up next to him and said, “He’s right, you know. If we keep waiting around wasting time here, it’s going to be a long and hard journey. We’ll all be hungry and tired.”

Octavia said, “How far is it, do you think?”

Clarke spread her hands. “It’s a twenty-mile trek. That could be a whole day’s trip.”

Octavia shook her head. “No. We can’t go now.” When Clarke opened her mouth to object, Octavia turned to look at the group of teenagers now half-surrounding them, and called, “Look, guys, I get it. Those supplies would be nice to have, but we gotta know what it’s like around here first. We can’t just go running off over to wherever Mount Weather is without a good idea of what we’re up against.” She took a breath, then grabbed a page out of Bellamy’s book, raising her voice as she called out, “Am I right, guys?!”

“ _Yeah!_ ” a number of voices called back.

“Okay, everyone, stay around here and start getting some firewood. Anyone who knows fruits and vegetables, whatever, find some that are safe to eat. Get to it!” Octavia clapped her hands once, and as though she were an adult, a number of the delinquents began scrambling to do her bidding.

Octavia turned back to Clarke and stepped closer. She extended her hand for Clarke to shake, and grinned. “Octavia Blake, at your service.”

Clarke chuckled and extended her hand to shake. “You certainly got them all working, already. I’m impressed.”

“I just figure we should try to get sorted out here before just rushing off.” She looked from Clarke to Wells and back to Clarke. “None of us are really used to going that hard in a forest. We can afford to wait a day or so here and get an idea of what’s around us, can we?”

“I guess your idea makes sense,” admitted Wells. “I still think we should try to go as soon as possible.”

 _Not happening, Wells_ , Octavia thought. _I’m not letting you_ anywhere _near those fuckers who turned Lincoln into a Reaper._

Clarke asked, “What about if we form a small scouting party and look around a bit? Would you want to come along?”

Octavia grinned. “Are you kidding? It’s so beautiful here. Sure!”

Clarke counted. “Okay, that makes you, me, Wells?” Wells nodded. “Who else?”

As if by magic, Finn dropped down off the dropship pipe he’d been sitting on, and grinned at Clarke. “I’ll come, too. I was good at tracking in Earth Skills.”

Jasper, eyeing Octavia a bit nervously, said, “What about if Monty and I come along?”

Finn clapped Jasper on the shoulder. “Good idea. The more the merrier, yeah?”

A tug at Octavia’s elbow got her attention. She groaned and rolled her eyes. “ _Jok_ , what is it, Bellamy?!”

“I’m not a jerk, O,” replied a perplexed Bellamy, “But—” He beckoned, trying to draw her away from the nucleus of the scouting group now discussing plans with Clarke pointing at a map.

Octavia looked Bellamy in the eye and said, “I don’t _need_ protecting. I spent a year locked up without you around, you know.” That, admitted Octavia to herself, was a low blow. His face twisted as though he’d been pinched hard.

Bellamy’s shoulders slumped. He leaned down a bit and whispered, “Just be safe, all right?”

Octavia reached out and clasped Bellamy’s hand. She smiled and said, “Of course. Look, whatever you did on the Ark, we can deal with that when the time comes. If we run off into that forest there is just _no_ telling what might happen to us. What if I got sick? Or you got hurt? At least here we have people who don’t want us floated.” Bellamy pursed his lips, then nodded once, conceding Octavia’s point. She let go of his hand and grinned. “Hey, I’m gonna be with a bunch of people. It’ll be fine. Why don’t you go help get firewood back here? And we need places to sleep, stuff like that. Ride herd on them and keep ‘em in line. The guard uniform’ll help.”

Bellamy seemed to perk up at that, looking down at himself and then around at the group of teenagers. He straightened his back and turned to a group close by. He said, “Hey, let’s figure out where to put the wood so it stays dry, okay? We don’t know if it’ll rain here or not. And you guys—” Bellamy pointed. “Get in the dropship and find the tents! We gotta sleep tonight, you know.”

With Bellamy off happily giving orders and generally being the boss, Octavia went to rejoin Clarke and the others. Clarke smiled at her and said, “Hey. I just showed the other people here Mount Weather on the map.” She held the map out to Octavia, who peered at it and the lines Clarke had drawn on it.

For the sake of appearing impressed, Octavia let out a low whistle. “Yep, that’s far, all right.” _And you are never going there if I can help it._ She added, “You can see I convinced Bellamy to stick around here and keep order.”

Clarke began re-folding the map and chuckled. “Good. We need some kind of leadership. I mean, not like the Ark, but we need to have coordination.”

What they were doing now was short-term planning, Octavia knew. But some people needed to do the longer-term planning, and if Octavia was _completely_ honest with herself, she didn’t _want_ to do that again. That way lay the possible path to becoming _Blodreina_ once more, and her stomach twisted at what she’d been pushed to in the Dark Year.

Let Clarke and Bellamy and Wells all jockey for position. Octavia was happy just getting the ball rolling. She gestured to Clarke and said, “You’ve got the map – lead the way!”

Clarke, map now re-folded, nodded sharply. “Okay, let’s get walking. Keep your eyes out for anything. I’m still not sure if the radiation could kill us or not, but… well, assuming it’s not, like Octavia says, we need to know what’s around us.”

With that, the group of six moved on out.

* * *

The journey around the forest had been mostly as Octavia remembered, with the guys trying to flirt with her. This time around, Octavia, trying to see if she could spot any Trikru in the distance without being too obvious about it, didn’t respond to anyone’s flirting, even Jasper’s, though she did smile briefly at the foursome of boys all bantering (though Wells looked more serious than the others); Wells hadn’t known what the others did to get locked up and had chuckled at Jasper and Monty explaining their situations.

Later on, Clarke ultimately explained that the Ark was dying. Wells looked uncomfortable at that, and Octavia frowned, intrigued at his reaction to Clarke’s statement.

But she couldn’t stop the spike of anger that flew through her, and she spat, “So what?! Float ‘em all!”

Wells turned to look at her with an appalled look. “You can’t mean that.”

Octavia rolled her eyes at Wells. “I was locked up for _existing_ , mini-Chancellor. Excuse me for being less than enthusiastic at the moment.”

Wells had no good answer for that and looked away.

Something in the distance caught Clarke’s attention and she hissed sharply, gesturing for silence. She then beckoned them along, walking slowly towards the clearing. Octavia remembered this: it was that two-headed deer!

She steeled herself for the moment of surprise when it would turn its head, but otherwise, took a moment to admire its beauty in profile. It was a bit like seeing a smaller horse, and Octavia smiled bittersweetly at the thought of faithful Helios, who’d gone above and beyond in managing to take her to safety after being stabbed by Echo.

Finn, as he’d done the last time, accidentally scared away the deer, cuing the gasps of shock from the group when it turned its head to look at them. Clarke, recovering her equilibrium, said, “Well, I guess that answers the question of where the animals are. We should probably hunt as well as gather berries and so on.”

Wells frowned. “I can’t help but wonder why we haven’t seen any skeletons of people, though. Even if everybody died almost a hundred years ago there should’ve been people caught out in the open by the bombs.”

“Oh my God, you’re a total moment-killer,” groaned Finn. “Here we are, in a beautiful forest and you’ve gotta worry about dead bodies.”

_All of me for all of us._

Octavia staggered for a moment, gasping as she recovered her equilibrium. Clarke’s hand on her shoulder brought her back to the present. “Octavia?! Do you feel sick?”

Octavia muttered, “Sorry. It’s just—” she needed a lie, quickly. _Thinkthinkthinkthink!_ She looked up and around at the trees, her eyes checking almost automatically for any sign of grounders. She hadn’t had to do it for six years, but she wasn’t completely rusty and it had been coming back to her over the last while of stealth observation.

The looking around gave her what she needed as she gestured around. “I’m sorry, it’s just all the… the open space. It just kinda got me.”

Wells clasped her other shoulder in reassurance. “I’m probably not your favorite person right now, but it’s understandable.”

Octavia dredged up a smile at his well-meaning earnestness, and stood straight, squaring her shoulders. “I’ll get used to it. Let’s keep going.”

They came across the river as had last time, but Octavia, now cognizant of the dangers of the world they lived in, decided to carefully make her way down to the riverbank as the other five teens discussed why the river wasn’t on the map. Clarke was babbling something about other rivers changing their course over the decades, but all Octavia could do was stare for a moment at the water.

 _All that water, just running free_.

As much as you wanted or needed. No rations required.

 _When you’ve spent most of your twenty-two years of your life in a world that enforces such stark privation_ , Octavia mused, _it really shouldn’t be a surprise the kind of power nature can hold over you_.

The clatter of rocks nearby jerked Octavia out of her reverie, and Jasper was standing next to her. “Hey,” he said.

Octavia smiled. “Hey back. What do you think?”

“It’s amazing,” he breathed. “And look, all that water. I wanna swim! They only ever talked about it in the old books on the Ark.”

As Jasper made to take his clothes off, Octavia grabbed him. “Wait!” she barked. “We don’t know what’s in that river!”

Monty, coming up behind Jasper along with Finn, Clarke and Wells, said, “Yeah. She’s got a point.”

Jasper smacked Monty’s arm in irritation, prompting a return smack-fest until Clarke bodily got in between them and muttered, “ _Stop_ it!”

Clarke stepped forward again and peered at her map once more. “I still don’t like how inaccurate this map is. Who’s to say I’ve even figured out the right distance?”

“Remember Earth Skills? Mountains erode the slowest. A hundred years wouldn’t have changed things that much as far as how high and where that mountain would be,” pointed out Finn.

Wells grimaced. “Clarke is right.” Ignoring the skeptical look Clarke gave him (Why _was_ Clarke acting like Wells was being a busybody, Octavia wondered. She had never really paid much attention to their dynamic before, and what sketchy history she’d picked up afterwards hinted only at some kind of rift between them). Wells continued, “If this river isn’t on the map – and it’s a _big_ river, what else could be wrong? I hate to say it, but I think my Dad’s advice might not be as helpful as I thought.”

Jasper snorted and thumped Wells on the shoulder. “We’ll make a real delinquent out of you yet!”

Octavia, who’d been keenly peering across at the other shore and was half-expecting it, still froze suddenly at the swish of a fur she’d spotted in between a gap in the trees. Her sharp intake of breath was loud enough for Clarke to call, “What? What is it?”

Octavia pointed. “I – I thought I saw something moving in the trees. Maybe a wild animal, like that deer. It just—just shocked me for a moment.”

Wells, who was scanning the river itself, pointed. “And guys, I think I see something swimming over there.”

The ominous black shape against the water was hard to see, but Octavia backed up a step. Compared to what she’d gone through since, having her leg nearly bitten off was relatively mundane – even so, she wasn’t gonna take any chances that the aquatic beast was going to suddenly take wing and fly out of the water.

Slowly, but steadily, the twisting snakelike shape made its way along the stream, passing within about twenty or thirty feet of them. Octavia caught just enough of a glimpse to realize the beast that had nearly gotten her must have been a good ten or fifteen feet long. She couldn’t help but shudder, and Jasper put his hand on her back, asking, “Hey. You okay?”

Brusquely, Octavia replied, “Yeah. C’mon; let’s get outta here. We need to tell everybody there’s water, but we need to be safe and cautious when we gather it.”

Clarke held up her hands. “Wait! How do we know the water’s safe to drink?”

Wells said, “We’ll boil it if we have to. We can’t do anything about the radiation, but at least we won’t get the runs.”

“Speaking of radiation,” Finn chimed in, “We’ve been down here – what, an hour? Two? I’m not seeing red spots on my skin or losing my hair or any of that other stuff. Maybe it _is_ safe for us.”

Clarke’s lips thinned as she thought for a moment and looked around. “I don’t know, guys. Plant life has a way of rebounding a lot faster than animal life, and you saw that mutated deer.”

Octavia grimaced. “Let’s just get away from that thing in the river and come back later when it’s not around anymore. Then we can bring cups or mugs or whatever.”

General agreement punctuated that, and they headed back to the dropship while it was still daylight. Octavia found herself checking the trees every so often, straining her eyes for any sign of Lincoln.

She bit her lip briefly. _What would it be like, seeing him again?_

Unfortunately for her peace of mind, no answer presented itself as the sounds of wood clattering and teenagers babbling began to make themselves known, and the group of six were back at the dropship some minutes later, announcing to cheers that they’d found water.

* * *

The afternoon and evening had been spent getting themselves fitted out and ready for a longer-term stay, as Octavia helped get tents set up and even once went on the water-gathering brigade to fill as many flasks and canteens as possible (everybody had been warned about the animal life and it hadn’t taken much to scare them into actually respecting the danger when Finn had described the size and shape of what they’d seen on their trek, so nobody tried anything stupid at the river; she still heaved a sigh of relief when they left with nobody being attacked).

Bellamy had taken to his organizer role like a duck to water, but had admitted to Clarke he’d gotten into an argument with John Murphy and John Mbege over them slacking and not really helping out.

“Where are they now, Bellamy?” Clarke had asked.

Octavia, keeping one ear on that conversation as she helped Monroe move some crates into a tent to make a kind of bed, heard Bellamy say, “I can’t keep an eye on _everyone_ , Princess. I saw them wander off to the edge over that way. Look, Murphy – the one who Octavia argued with – has some kind of knife he’s been making, so at least he can protect himself.”

She hadn’t realized she’d frozen in place until Monroe called, “Hey. Uh, Blake? Octavia? You’re standing in the middle of the tent.”

Octavia shook her head, blinking. “Uh, right!” she babbled. “Sorry. You need anything else in here?”

Monroe looked at the two ‘beds’ and grimaced; it wasn’t going to be very comfortable, even by prison standards, but all she said was, “Nah. We’re good. Let’s go help get set up.”

By evening twilight, a firepit had been cleared and a fairly good-sized pile of wood sat stacked in a roughly triangular shape. More wood was stacked in a spare pile well away from the dropship. Tents dotted the area, and some lucky scavenger teams had managed to find some berries that weren’t overripe. The water rations were secured inside the dropship in a locker, and Jasper and Monty had even managed to fashion a sort of water barrel out of a section of damaged piping on the dropship and a tarpaulin.

Harper, kneeling near the base of the triangle, was using the technique Pike had shown them for making fire, and pretty soon a small flame arose from the piece of wood in front of her, which she quickly pushed into the massed pile of wood.

Orange flames soon licked at the pile, and ragged cheers rose from the group now gathered in the central area. Octavia stood near the fire, a few feet away from the unofficial nucleus of power now forming from the trio of Wells, Bellamy and Clarke.

Clarke stepped forward and called, “Thank you all _so much_ for doing this and getting us prepared before we decide to try and go for Mount Weather. The Ark is – it’s on its last legs, frankly. They have maybe four months left. My father was floated and I was locked up because we tried to get the truth out several months ago.”

Mumurs of shock and dismay went around the crowd. Clarke went on, speaking more loudly. “But most of the people on the Ark are not guilty of the crimes of the Council. So it’s _really_ important that we survive long enough down here for our families – and our scientists, engineers and farmers – to make it down too.” Bellamy seemed to bridle at that, and murmurs of discontent wafted around the fire.

Octavia knew she had to shut that down. Coming from Clarke it wouldn’t help, and Bellamy had been giving orders all day. Wells was distrusted, being the son of the Chancellor (oddly, Octavia realized, as much as she wanted to not like him, the guy was just so innocently _earnest_ – but that wouldn't get him many points with the rest).

No, it had to be her: The child who’d been the lowest of the low in the Ark hierarchy, the girl who’d had literally _nothing_ but her name and scraps of stolen existence.

She stepped forward, her back straight, her shoulders squared. Octavia let _Blodreina_ come forth a bit as she called out loudly, “Listen to what she says, everybody!”

Murmurs of surprise went around the camp. _The girl who’d bested Pike…_

Octavia continued, “You guys might not like it, and I like the Ark probably less than the rest of you – and if it was up to me they could all go float themselves – but we need them just as much as they need us. They didn’t send us down just for the fun of it. Think about it: they’ve got to be in pretty big trouble to send us down thinking the radiation might kill us.”

Octavia took a breath, and continued. “And let’s face it: nobody here’s an actual doctor, no offence to Clarke. What happens the first time one of us gets sick, or hurt? And no offence to Monty over there, but we’re not farmers. Those berries won’t last forever once winter comes, and we’ve only seen a couple of animals so far. Like it or not, we need the people who know what we don’t know, so we can _live_. So listen to Clarke; she’s not stupid, okay?”

Bellamy, by now, was staring in mixed awe and amazement at his hitherto generally quiet younger sister, and Clarke’s eyebrows were raised in impressed surprise. Wells was giving her a small smile.

It was all Octavia could do not to burst out laughing at Jasper’s and Monty’s twin looks of open-mouthed shock at Octavia so effortlessly grabbing control, though.

She turned away quickly and surveyed the crowd once more, then stepped back, clearly handing the reins back to Clarke. Clarke, in her turn, cleared her throat, then called out, “Right! Okay, let’s see how much food and water we’ve got, and we’ll organize more search parties tomorrow.”

Bellamy barked, “Stay orderly and don’t crowd around!” He pointed, apparently to a group of gatherers. “You guys, get over here and help pass out the berries.” To Jasper and Monty, he said, “You guys did the water barrel. Go get the water canteens and let’s figure something out.”

Wells went with them to help get things set up, and before long, everybody had a small ration of berries and enough cups and mugs were available (by some miracle) that they could be shared without too much trouble. Octavia contrived to get a seat on a large log near Jasper, who was seated next to the water barrel. Monty, for his part, had gravitated a few feet away to be near Harper, who was smiling up at him and giggling at something he’d said.

 _Hook, line and sinker_ , an amused Octavia thought. She looked down at the berry she was about to eat, and silently recited, _Omon gon oson_.

Jasper, for his part, said, “How did you do all that? Ever since you fought Pike, you’ve been, like, in _control_. But you’re not trying to be our leader or anything. Why’s that?”

Octavia, having just eaten and swallowed the rather tart berry, gulped down some water from the mug she and Jasper were sharing, then said, “Appreciate the vote of confidence, but I’m not the one they need. They need someone who’s older and who’s known on the Ark, like Clarke. Her dad was like, some bigshot engineer. And Bellamy was a guard on the Ark. Even Wells might get some respect: he hasn’t tried to throw his weight around but his dad _is_ the Chancellor.

“And me, I'm just the girl that got lucky in a fight. I won’t have the authority or the credibility when it comes time to tell the Ark we want some things in exchange for being their successful guinea pigs. Someone like Clarke can tell them to go to hell and they might actually listen. After all, her mom _is_ the Ark doctor.”

Octavia’s thoughts wandered back over to the blonde, now sitting near Finn. _Doctor_ Abby Griffin.

Octavia’s fists clenched at what she’d been pushed into at Abby’s insistence.

 _So much for the Hippocratic Oath_ , Octavia snarled to herself. It had just been another iteration of the same old shit: the adults not wanting to take the lead, so they pushed teenagers – barely ready for the job to begin with – into doing all the hard work up front.

She would spoil her appetite if she kept stewing, so in an effort to keep things light, Octavia turned to Jasper and with a hint of a devilish smirk, asked, “So who is Jasper Jordan, and what are his intentions with Octavia Blake?”

Seeing Jasper splutter as he tried not to spit out his water was worth its weight in gold. Eventually, he managed to recover, and to his credit, he didn’t stammer too much as he said, “Uh. Well, you’re hot – I mean that in the nicest way, okay, not, y’know – anyway, I know you said you didn’t want to be, like, my _girlfriend_ or anything, but…”

He gulped and his face went distinctly red in the light scattered from the flickering flames twenty feet away. “Could we, like…?”

Octavia reached for Jasper’s hand, which trembled slightly in her grasp. She looked around, almost instinctively, for Bellamy, who was chatting up an attractive brunette on the other side of the fire. _Atom didn’t deserve it,_ thought Octavia, mentally sending daggers at Bellamy’s overprotectiveness. _And I’ll fight Bell if I have to if he lays a hand on Jasper._

She slowly and deliberately put Jasper’s hand on her leg, and sidled up closer to him. She leaned in and said, “Let’s start with that. And try not to come in your pants.”

Jasper turning redder than the fire forced Octavia to press her lips together, restraining her laughter as she leaned against him, shaking silently as she let herself give in to the part of her that was still somehow not _Blodreina_ , that part that just wanted to live in the moment of a new world where she was free.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you can see, I'm going for a little Jasper/Octavia, which is likely not going to be permanent. I always thought they might make a cute couple in Season 1, but that got overshadowed by the looming war to come and then Octavia gaining her attachment to Lincoln, which was clearly reciprocated.
> 
> Also, while it's not definitively canonically established, I do think Octavia is bisexual. She may end up with a girlfriend, or not. That's still up in the air. :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so the saga continues! Please let me know if you think anything could be improved. I'm always happy to take comments, suggestions, and critiques!

_Octavia stood in the bunker cafeteria, her hand shaking as she held the gun._

_She didn’t want to fire._

_But Abby had told her – do this or they die._

_And Octavia had to force Wonkru to do it._

_Her hand shook as she stared down the barrel. Her finger, trembling, pulled back on the trigger_ —

Octavia let out a sharp scream as she jolted awake. Jasper, next to her, was gripping her shoulder. “Octavia? Are you all right?!”

Slowly letting her heavy breathing return to normal, Octavia whispered, “I think so. What—what was I doing?”

_Oh god, that nightmare…_

“You thrashed and hit me; I think that’s what woke me up, anyway. I tried shaking you awake, but you kept mumbling something like ‘aw-mawn gawn aw-sawn’. I think? I'm not sure. It didn’t make any sense to me. What does it mean?”

Octavia blinked owlishly, trying to see in the semidarkness. Jasper was just a barely visible black blob next to her. She said, “It's—it's Ancient Greek. Something Bellamy read to me in a book once and I dunno why it stuck in my head.” She gulped and continued. “Look, Jasper, I’m _really_ sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

Jasper pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek. “It’s okay. I guess—well, being under the floor and all that. I’m impressed you’re not a basket case by now.”

Octavia let out a low, hollow laugh. “Me too.” _More than you will ever know_.

Forcing distraction on herself, Octavia shifted on Jasper’s makeshift bed and said, “So. Last night, yeah?”

“W-was it good for you, too?” wondered Jasper.

When the rain had started pelting down the night before, Octavia had spent a few moments just luxuriating in the water coming down, but had soon had enough of it and nudged Jasper off to his tent. It hadn’t taken much time after that to find out how good of a kisser he really was, and from there, to find out what was in his pants.

Octavia grinned to herself at that last; Jasper certainly hadn’t been lacking in that department (and truth be told, neither had Lincoln or Ilian), and what he lacked in experience he made up in enthusiasm.

And so without a trace of a lie, she said, “Yes, it definitely was.”

Octavia sighed after a moment and added, “We need to talk about this some more later, though. When it’s actual daytime.” When Jasper made to sit up and argue the point, Octavia reached out and grabbed his shoulder. “ _No_ , Jasper. When we can see each other and _talk_ without people hearing everything we say. Now, I’m gonna go get some water, and I want to explore a bit. Okay?”

Jasper muttered, “Okay.” His hand nonetheless snaked down to grope her butt, and Octavia giggled despite herself. If it had been any other time, she would have gone along with Jasper’s desire, but right then, she knew how fragile her light mood was and needed to recenter herself.

“Geez, you’re horny,” Octavia jibed. “Look, ask me some other time and maybe we’ll do it again. Right now, I really want to be alone for a bit. Okay? It’s nothing to do with you, it’s just… stuff from before.”

Jasper’s hand withdrew, and he shifted to get more comfortable. “See you later?” he asked.

Octavia began getting out of the bed, and replied, “Like I said, we’ve got to talk about what… this… is between us. So yes, I’ll come back.”

A few minutes later, Octavia was dressed and stepped out into the delinquents’ camp. Judging from the lack of shouts or chaos or what all, she decided that the Trikru were playing it safe and not attacking, and if Lincoln was observing, he was being very discreet about it. She peered up at the trees, but couldn’t make him out (if he was even there at all).

Taking a moment to get her bearings in the slowly gathering twilight, and counting herself lucky she had risen early, she began walking in the direction she dimly remembered, almost seven years before, was where the grove of glowing butterflies was located.

And as if by chance, when she looked up, a glowing blue butterfly was lazily floating through the air in just the direction she remembered. Octavia grinned. “Hey, you. Where’re you going?”

Her pace picked up, and she was soon lost amid the trees. Sure enough, she soon spotted a blue glow still visible in the early morning, and in just a few more moments, she walked out into the grove of trees, slowly pulsating with the fluttering blue waves of butterflies.

Octavia closed her eyes and sighed, feeling the tenseness in her back and shoulders slowly leave her, taking with it her lingering unease about her nightmare. Whatever might happen, she knew, she had at least one place she would always be able to commune in and relax for a while.

She rolled up her coat sleeve and extended her left arm. One butterfly slowly, tentatively, began to float down, gently resting itself on her arm. When she made no move to shake it off, others began to fly down, and she could feel the gentle breeze their wings made against her outstretched arm as they settled down, resting on the bare skin.

After a few moments, her arm grew tired, and she whispered, “Sorry, you guys,” as she lowered her arm, the butterflies gently lifting off again as she lowered her arm to her side.

Nature had become cruel and hostile in some ways after the bombs fell, and multiply so in the wake of _Praimfaya_ , but here, now, was proof once more that nature could produce pleasantness and beauty, not just in its inanimate form, but in the life that lived within and which sustained it.

If for no other reason than to preserve this one small piece of paradise, Octavia decided, she _must_ try to stop _Praimfaya_!

* * *

As near as Octavia could tell through the trees as she stepped back into the delinquents’ camp, the sun’s motion meant between half an hour to an hour had gone by since she’d ducked out to see the glowing butterflies. She recalled, last time, they had gone so far from the dropship that they’d stayed the night in a glowing forest. She would have to try and find _that_ place, too.

Some teenagers were stirring awake, stumbling to the water barrels Wells and Clarke had begun setting out for rain collection (Octavia had spotted this out the corner of her eye when she’d ducked into Jasper’s tent) and using the provided mugs to get a badly-needed morning drink.

She went to go find Jasper, who had, apparently just woken up fully and was getting his shirt on. In the light, Octavia could now see that Monty and Harper, spooning in the bed opposite, had gotten the same idea as Jasper and Octavia, and she grinned. She nudged Jasper and pointed, to which he high-fived himself. She chuckled and beckoned Jasper out of the tent.

They looked about, and Octavia noticed a lack of tents around one corner of the dropship where it was near a dense thicket of trees. She gestured in that direction, and once there, she held out her hand, which Jasper took.

“Hey,” she said.

“Hey to you too.” He grinned, a bit shakily. “So like, what you said… uh, what’s going on?”

Octavia took a deep breath and launched into the explanation she’d constructed on the way back from the Shining Butterfly Grove (as she mentally tagged it this time around instead of just boring old ‘butterfly field’): “This was a first time for both of us. You’ve never been in a relationship before, as far as I know, and neither have I. So I don’t want to make this like, exclusive-till-we’re-old-and-grey or anything. All right?”

Jasper frowned and let go of her hand. “What? You’re gonna—”

Octavia broke in. “Quiet! Keep your voice down. Anyway, no, this doesn’t mean I’m gonna start racing into bed with every guy and girl here, but it does mean that I’m pretty sure you’ll find someone else, and so will I, who you just—you just _know_ ; you know you’re gonna spend several years with them if not the rest of your life.”

Jasper’s face fell slightly. “But you don’t think that’s it for… for us? I mean, how do you even _know_? You’re just as new to this as I am.”

Octavia reached up and brushed her hand through Jasper’s hair. “No. I’m sorry. I really wish I _did_ feel that way, but I… I don’t. And I can’t lie to you to spare your feelings. That would just cause more problems later.

“And Bellamy brought me books from the Ark’s library sometimes. I’d ask him what the characters did and he’d say, like ‘that one has a crush on the other one’; I didn’t know, so I asked what one is and he explained. What you’re feeling, if I’m guessing right, is a crush on me but you’re not _actually_ in love with me, even if it might feel like that at the moment.”

Octavia had spent quite a while considering to herself if she, _Blodreina_ or no _Blodreina_ , could or even _should_ get into a relationship again. She had told Indra that love was weakness once, and at the time, she’d meant it. Even Niylah had never been the same again after the Dark Year, and where once Niylah had spoken of marriage and being together, after that she never again spoke of lifelong commitment.

And now, Lincoln was surely nearby. Yet could she be the same woman he had grown to love? Not by a long shot. And could she open her heart again to a man who aspired, as much as he could, to transcend the society he’d grown up in? To look to the stars and see not an enemy, but a possible new connection?

Octavia worried her lip, then sighed and looked at Jasper again. She managed a small smile and said, “But I will promise you this. Unless I’ve found that somebody else, you’re always welcome to hang out, or even ask to spend the night with me. I won’t promise you a ‘yes’ every time, but I will promise you a good time when I do.”

Jasper blushed and let out a weak chuckle, ducking his head for a moment. “That thing you did last night… I, um—” He broke off, face now redder than before.

Octavia grinned. “What can I tell you? I’m a natural,” she bragged jokingly. She looked back out at the camp and said, “C’mon. We’ve got a big day ahead of us and we should try to do some more exploring – _carefully_ , though.”

* * *

As it happened, the impromptu council of Clarke, Wells, Bellamy, Octavia, Finn, Jasper and Monty more or less agreed with Octavia’s initial thoughts. Harper, for her part, was helping make some knives and spears for a hunting party Bellamy had organized earlier.

Even Wells’s insistence that they should get to Mount Weather seemed a bit muted in light of the realization that things were more complicated than they first appeared, what with animal life that didn’t always look pleasant and rivers not showing up on maps.

Still, there was an energy, an undercurrent, as they began working out what to do next.

Octavia’s wristband shifted uncomfortably against her skin and she grumbled, “Ugh. This _thing_.”

Monty frowned. “These wristbands – does anyone really know what they do?”

Clarke nodded. “They transmit our vital signs to the Ark. That’s how they’ll know we can survive down here.”

Octavia could almost see the wheels turning in Monty’s head. “Wells, you said the comms array is down. What if I could take parts from that and try to use one of these wristbands to hijack the telemetry readings? Maybe communicate somehow?”

Wells thought for a moment. “It could work – maybe. We’d need someone to let their wristband get taken off.”

Octavia’s arm shot out. “Use mine. Nobody will care up on the Ark if they see my signal go dead.” She let her arm fall back to her side, her point having been made.

Monty nodded. “All right. We’ll take care of that later. Wells, I’ll need your help with this too.”

“Sure.”

Clarke said, “Other things we’ve got to do is find a closer supply of water than the river, get some hunting parties going, and gather more fruits if we can. Somehow we’ve _got_ to have communications for our long-term survival, though.”

Bellamy snorted. “Like we need to be in a real rush for that. We’ve got it pretty nice down here, all things considered.”

Finn rolled his eyes. “Says the man with a gun. The rest of us just have pointy sticks or shitty knives.”

Clarke’s jaw dropped. She hissed, “Bellamy! What the hell?!”

He lifted his shirt, showing the gun tucked in his pants.

“That’s an accident waiting to happen, man,” Jasper warned.

“The safety’s _on_ , for one thing,” growled Bellamy. “For another thing, who here has been trained on firearms?” After a few moments of dead silence, he smirked. “Thought so. I was a guard up on the Ark, and I’m trained. And I’m not letting just anyone walk off with this thing.”

Clarke huffed, “For your sake, you’d better hope it stays that way.”

Finn stepped forward. “Okay, let’s stick to planning here, all right? So what’re we gonna do and how will we do it?”

Clarke began ticking off on her fingers as she ran down the list. “First, Monty, Wells, and Octavia: you guys go see if a wristband can be used for communications. Second, Bellamy and I will go exploring some more, since Bellamy having a gun might be useful. Finn, you’re good at tracking, so you come too. Third—what else?”

“I can go join the hunting teams or something,” noted Jasper.

Clarke nodded. “Okay. Remember, if there’s deer, though, there could be predatory animals too. And they have claws.”

“And teeth,” Jasper joked, a bit nervously.

Octavia patted his shoulder. “You’ll do fine. Just be careful.”

Clarke clapped her hands once. “Okay. Let’s all get to it!”

Bellamy dragged Octavia off to one side. “Are you and Jasper—?”

Octavia turned her full-on _Blodreina_ glare at Bellamy, who actually took a half-step back. She advanced and growled, “Bellamy Blake, if you so much as even _think_ about laying a hand on him, I will never, ever speak to you again.” She stuck her finger in his face. “I _mean_ it, Bell. You do not get to control who I can and cannot speak, or sleep, with.”

Bellamy crossed his arms and with an air of false bravado, said, “We’ll see about that.”

“Don’t. Touch. Him,” warned Octavia through gritted teeth before she stalked away to join Wells and Monty in the dropship.

* * *

Octavia yelped, “Ow!” as the wristband came off her wrist with a satisfying _crack_ , albeit at the cost of having a crowbar jammed against her arm and feeling the little needles getting pulled out of her skin.

The blue electric currents fizzed out, but Monty just muttered, “I expected that. They weren’t really meant to be removed that way.”

Wells and Monty began babbling engineering lingo at each other as they debated how to interface the bracelet’s circuitry with the communications array: after all, the bracelets all had their own internal power sources, so it was just a matter of finding a way to make it ‘think’ it was still activated, and then hijack the bio-telemetry to send a signal.

In the middle of it all, Octavia spoke up. “Uh, guys? Hate to break up the session, but this girl’s gotta tinkle, if you know what I mean. I’ll come back later, if you want.”

They hurriedly waved her off, assuring her they didn’t need her help right then.

With that, Octavia rose to her feet and descended the ladder, passing by some people milling about on the lowest floor of the dropship. In the clearing, she spotted John Murphy and John Mbege taunting Fox and Monroe.

_Oh, god fucking damn it, Murphy, why couldn’t you take a hint when I saved your ass?_

Octavia strode over and bellowed, “What the hell’s going on here?”

Fox stalked off, and Monroe stayed behind long enough to give the two Johns the finger and say, “Don’t count on sleeping anywhere near _me_ tonight!”

With that, Monroe walked off, too, leaving Octavia to scowl at the two slackers.

“Float you, Murphy. You can’t talk to people like that,” Octavia snarled.

Murphy rolled his eyes. “Oh, look who it is. Girl under the floor, already sucking up to Princess Clarke.”

Mbege made faux kissing noises, and Octavia wound up to slug him a good one in the shoulder. He whined, “ _Ow!_ ”

“Are you two going to do anything like build, I don’t know, roasting pits for animals, or storage for our food, or what?” Octavia crossed her arms, her feet set in a combat stance.

Murphy played with his knife for a moment, then snorted. “Mini-Chancellor, his dad floated mine because he stole medicine for me. Such a _terrible_ crime, right? You should be on _my_ side on this!”

Octavia sighed. “I get it, Murphy. Honestly, I do. But I don’t know if you noticed, but even the ‘privileged’ kids are working without complaining a lot. If anything, the only person who’s still complaining and groaning is _you_.”

Murphy’s jaw set, and only Octavia’s years of experience reading people in close-quarters combat (both fighting and watching) warned her he was about to try slicing across her torso with his knife.

Her arms shot out and her body twisted at a level almost below instinct, and only her still-lower muscle mass prevented Octavia from being able to throw Murphy cleanly over her shoulder while disarming him.

As it was, Octavia nearly went down under his weight, but managed to grab the knife, and shoving Murphy off to the side, she staggered back, blade pointed. “Back off! Now!”

The latter’s eyes wide at her sudden combat skills, he joined Mbege as they backed away. “Okay, Miss Enforcer. We’ll just mosey on off, then,” spat Murphy as he pushed Mbege back some more, before both turned and walked away.

Octavia, still getting her breath back, tried to keep an eye on the two, but they had ended up taking off clear into the forest. She groaned and tried to stretch, working the kinks out of her back, then went off to see if anyone wanted help making weapons.

 _Murphy and Mbege can float themselves for all I fucking care right now,_ fumed Octavia.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! As always, please feel free to review and critique the fic! I welcome the chance to improve this fic through reader feedback. :)

On the way to weapons production, Octavia went to seek out someone she had, probably unconsciously, been avoiding: Miller.

He had, after all, been one of her most trusted followers, but since that moment when she’d spotted him rushing out of the dropship, she had almost not wanted to somehow taint herself with remnants of her _before_ life.

But still—

She couldn’t exactly go avoiding him forever.

So she wandered the camp a bit, meandering her way past groups of teenagers playing games, a few rather openly making out, and even a couple of people trying to make bows and arrows. As it turned out, Miller was in the group of teens bantering among one another near some long straight sticks of wood, trying to whittle spears. A dim memory arose within Octavia of a time when she’d been doing exactly that, only to be sidetracked by Atom.

Putting that aside, she called. “Hey, guys! Need any help?”

Miller, among them, looked up at her and called out, “Hey! It’s Blake! Octavia, right?” He grinned. “I was _there_ when she put Pike out. _Bam!_ ” He mimed her punch.

The others grinned and nodded approvingly.

Octavia smiled, a bit tentatively, and said to Miller, “Scoot over. You can always use someone else, right? The hunting parties are gonna need a lot of those spears.”

Indeed, _this_ iteration of Miller was clean-shaven, relaxed, and casual through and through. He shrugged lazily, shifted down one seat on the row that had been taken out of the dropship, and patted the now empty spot, upon which Octavia sat down next to him. “So, lieutenant Blake. What’re you doing among the hoi polloi?”

Octavia blinked. _Miller had known Greek terms?_

Misinterpreting her, Miller clarified, “Us commoners. Not your inner circle.”

Octavia snorted. “I’m just trying to help out where I can, that’s all.”

One of the others – a boy about Miller’s age – said, “Sure, when you can bust out that voice that’s somehow like a drill sergeant calling a bunch of recruits into line – that’s just _helping out_ , and not threatening to kick our asses like you did with Pike – and I saw what you did with Murphy, too, by the way.”

Miller perked up. “No way? You kicked that lazy shit’s ass, too?”

Octavia found herself blushing. “ _Guys_. Look, Murphy and his friend were hassling a couple of girls to sleep with them, and I just defended myself when he tried going after me.”

Miller whistled. “Impressive for a girl under the floor. What were you doing in your cell, combat training?”

“Kind of.” Octavia’s mind raced as she tried to concoct a believable story. “I was bored like _anything_ in that cell at first. At least when I lived with Bellamy and my Mom I had books and stuff to read. So I decided to just, like, do exercises when they locked the doors.”

Nods of approval went around the group, and Octavia called, “Hey, gimme a stick. I wanna help out.”

Someone tossed her a stick of wood about a half-inch in diameter and about three feet long. She instinctively hefted it and decided it would make a good short-range weapon. Octavia reached down beside her where she’d put Murphy’s knife, and began whittling off one end to sharpen it.

Even though she was supposed to be ‘new’ at it, she couldn’t help but notice that her practiced strokes easily and quickly made sharp edges. To try and slow herself down, she turned to Miller and said, “So what did you get busted for?”

“Stupid shit, honestly,” he groaned. “I wanted to impress my boyfriend Bryan for our anniversary, so I figured l’d be a hotshot and steal some extra rations to make a private little dinner for ourselves. Of course, that _would_ be the day Kane ordered an extra check of all inventories and I got nailed.”

Octavia hesitated, then reached up and patted Miller’s shoulder. “That’s pretty rotten luck.”

“Tell me about it. And now he’s not even gonna know I’m down here,” Miller finished with his spear and tossed it onto the completed pile, then grabbed another stick. “I hope they figure out a way to bring at least Farm Station down, ‘cause he’s from there.”

 _Farm Station_.

Octavia’s blood ran cold as Pike’s visage swam through her mind again. Seeing Bellamy again in those last few days of her _before_ life had dredged all that up again – dredged it up even past six years of unending trials and tribulations.

“Hellooooo? Fighter Girl?”

“Huh?” Octavia shook herself out of her reverie and came back to the present, pushing everything to do with Pike back into a corner of her mind and leaving it there.

Miller was giving her a half-smile and pointing at her stick. “That won’t sharpen itself, you know.”

Octavia rolled her eyes. “Save the corny jokes for Bryan.”

Miller chuckled, grinning widely. “Oh, believe me, I will.”

Octavia took a moment and tried to remember the last time Miller had even so much as half-smiled – and couldn’t. She bowed her head in memory of the damage the Dark Year had done to Wonkru, and pledged once more, _omon gon oyon_.

All her efforts would be worth it just to keep that easy grin showing on Miller’s face – just to know that even one person on Earth or off it would have a reason to stay happy.

With that, she took up her stick, jaw set in determination, and resumed whittling.

* * *

The first inkling that Octavia’s changed actions had had a secondary effect elsewhere was when a horn sounded in the distance, followed a couple of seconds later by a horn that sounded like it was right on top of the camp.

She sat up, back rigid. “Did you guys hear that?!”

Miller, his eyes wide, nodded. “Yeah, I sure did. No way that was our hunting party!”

Octavia, who’d been peering around to try and see if Lincoln was directly above them ( _why else would another horn blow right on top of her, practically?_ ) _,_ jumped to her feet when she spotted an ominous orange blob in the distance. _Acid fog! Shit shit SHIT!_

She bellowed, “EVERYBODY! Back to the dropship now! _Now!_ ”

Any debate about whether or not people were alive on the ground shut down fast as the first tendrils of the yellow choking gas drifted towards the camp, setting the farthest people backpedalling towards the dropship as they coughed and moaned that their hands were burning.

Octavia, for her part, thundered up the ramp and grabbed the lever, preparing to shut the door as soon as the last person got inside. She called, “Someone get upstairs and shut all the vents! We have to make this place airtight!”

Someone yelled back, “On it!” Their feet shortly clattered up the ladder to begin battening down the upper levels.

“C’mon, c’mon, come _ooooon_!” Octavia gritted her teeth as she frantically beckoned the last few stragglers in, who quickly plunged into the mass of confused teenagers milling about on the lowest floor. Monroe was bringing up the rear, racing just ahead of the fog.

The orange gas wafted closer—

Still closer—

And just as Monroe stomped up the ramp and jumped into the ship proper, Octavia slammed the lever home even as the gas threatened to make its way past the ramp threshold. The ramp motor whirred, pulling it up slowly – almost too slowly – and closing with a final _thunk_ just as a few wisps of orange gas filtered in, giving Octavia’s arms slight reddish burns as they did so.

Octavia dared not count things settled down yet; she had to keep order among frightened teenagers. So she called out, “Who’s got the water canteens? Are there any in here?!”

Monroe joined her and said, “I saw a bunch around here somewhere, if they're not in storage.”

Octavia found said canteens and began giving orders to ration them out, giving first drinks to people who had been coughing and choking from the gas. While that went on, Wells Jaha descended the ladder, and Octavia heaved a sigh of relief; she went up to him and said, “We gotta account for who’s missing. There should be around a hundred of us.”

Wells nodded. He called out, “Can everybody hear me in the ship?! I need you to keep your voices down for a bit!”

Mutters of “Quiet!” and “Shush!” went around the ship, and as silence descended over the vessel, Wells shouted, “Okay, everybody – there’s enough water here to ration out for however long that outside orange gas lasts, but try not to drink too much of it. The next thing I need you all to do is to stay where you are. I’m going to come around and count us all so we know who didn’t make it. All right?”

Murmurs of (sometimes grudging) assent went through the ship, and as people settled in to get comfortable, Wells said in an aside to Octavia, “Clarke’s still out there.” He bit his lip.

Octavia clasped his shoulder briefly. “I know. She’s with Bellamy and Finn. Bellamy will make sure they’re safe.”

That, at least, she knew was true from _before_. Bellamy had been at loggerheads with her more often then, but he wouldn’t be so heartless as to deliberately leave Clarke at the mercy of a choking, corrupting gas.

Wells nodded to her, and began slowly wandering the dropship, counting people and remembering names when he could. Octavia, for her part, wandered back over near the lever and crossed her arms, occasionally lifting her right hand to bite her thumbnail as she tried not to wonder if Bellamy not being on a hunting team this time might change things.

And for that matter, wasn’t the acid fog here about twelve hours too _early_ —

Monroe sidling up to Octavia broke her concentration, and she accepted a perfunctory drink from the canteen. Monroe said, “Those horns we heard – there’s only one good explanation for that, right?”

Octavia nodded slowly, not wanting to seem too knowledgeable about who was out there, and said, “Nobody we know has horns. And if I miss my guess that means there are _people_ down here.” She handed back the canteen, and Monroe wandered off to find someone else to give water to.

The teenagers nearest Octavia perked up at that, and they whispered among themselves, “ _Grounders!_ Down here!”

The murmurs of grounders percolated through the dropship, and pretty soon, people were debating among themselves:

“Do they speak English?”

“What about technology?”

“What if they don’t want us here?”

Amid the babbling, Wells came back down from upstairs and announced to Octavia, “We’ve got less than ten people missing. Clarke, Bellamy, Finn, Jasper, Murphy, Mbege, and—”

Octavia cut Wells off, gasping, “ _Jasper?!_ ”

She stared glassily at Wells, blinking rapidly as she tried to work out if she’d just killed at least six people at the price of saving two. _Monty would never forgive her_ …

Octavia had given in to her wanting for physical companionship and without a spear in the chest putting him out of action, Jasper had gone haring off to go hunting!

Stupid, stupid, _stupid!_

Even Bellamy, who could take care of himself – would he have realized the danger in time?

 _Blodreina,_ she thought bitterly. More like goddamn _Wanlida_ : bringer of death.

She sagged against the wall, moaning, “Wells, what did I _do_?!” She gulped and looked up at him. “It’s not _fair_ ,” she whispered thickly.

Wells stepped up in front of her, shielding her from the inquisitive looks starting to be aimed her way. He put his hands on her shoulders, his quiet strength lending itself to her own.

“Octavia,” he said quietly. “They’re all smart people, okay? There’s got to be caves and other stuff around here they can hide in. They’re not dead until we go out and find them and see for ourselves.”

Octavia belatedly remembered her meditations, and soon recentered herself as she ran through the well-worn lines and mantras. She breathed slowly and deliberately, standing up straight as Wells’s hands lifted off her shoulders after a final reassuring squeeze.

She nodded to Wells, trying to convey her gratitude through her eyes. He seemed to understand, for he nodded back and moved to stand next to her, his back against the ramp as he quietly surveyed the crowded dropship.

Octavia schooled her features into bland indifference and began doing the same. She could not afford to show weakness now, not in the first serious crisis the delinquents had faced yet. She had led _Wonkru_ ; she could do this much simpler task of keeping everybody quiet and collected for a few hours.

 _Bellamy and Jasper and the others_ will _return unharmed_ , she told herself. _Even – even those two_ branwadas _Murphy and Mbege_.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Hope you're all still enjoying the fic. Please feel free to critique, comment, or suggest stuff. I'm always aiming to improve my fics and you, the audience, are the biggest source of help there. :)
> 
> I'm finding that the pace is still a bit slower than I envisioned, but it seems like the narrative is starting to revolve around how even small changes Octavia makes have ripple effects on other people as well. So it's probably not a bad idea to explore that stuff. :)

Luckily for Octavia and Wells, with Monroe and Miller and a few others to help keep up a good front and keep the water from running out, people managed to stay mostly quiet and calm, with the “grounders” rumor keeping them pre-occupied. From what Octavia could tell on the lowest level, anyway, about a quarter of the people believed the horns blowing meant there had to be people on the ground, while the remainder ranged from believing it to be some kind of natural phenomenon, to believing that the hunting parties _had_ somehow fashioned horns and that the warning had been from them.

Lending credence to that last was the fact that around ten people were still out somewhere, but Octavia was almost certain that Lincoln was in one of the trees and had blown his horn. Without Jasper having accidentally raised Trikru suspicions by crossing that wide river and holding up the Mount Weather sign, he might well see the Hundred as less of a threat and would be willing to go that extra distance to their aid.

She _needed_ to find him, and soon!

Not just to decide for herself if she could reconnect with him again, but because he was the key to a possibly lasting peace.

All this was shoved to the side as Octavia heard a voice bellow down from the top level, “It’s clearing up out there!”

A few ragged cheers rose up through the dropship, but most people were just expressing relief that they could stand up and stretch their legs soon. Octavia wasted no time yanking the lever again, letting the heavy ramp door slowly open back up. The people in front cautiously stepped out, Octavia among them; everybody was looking all around, ready to run back into the dropship at the first sign of the return of the yellow gas.

By now, Octavia was slowly stepping back out onto the ground, still trying to figure out why the gas had come earlier. Maybe the Mountain Men had decided they needed to see how much of a threat the teenagers were, and Cage Wallace wanted to get his jollies earlier for some reason. After all, he was kind of a sicko who got off on stuff like that.

Octavia had gotten a pretty big earful about the Mountain from Bellamy and Harper during those three months between the fall of Mount Weather and Lexa’s death, and from what she’d been able to piece together, Cage Wallace was apparently an out and out sadist who was in the middle of letting Clarke’s mother get her bone marrow yanked out of her while Clarke had to helplessly watch on closed-circuit TV, when Clarke had decided to up the stakes by threatening Dante, Cage’s father. Cage had also stood there and let Tsing butcher Harper for her bone marrow, too. (Octavia shuddered; the closest she could think of to being drilled into was when that _thing_ was trying to destroy her insides before Clarke had superhumanly managed to deal with it. Or when that miner asshole’s super-gun had caught her in the backlash at the Polis plaza.)

Lincoln had also made a few elliptical remarks to her as he’d slowly recovered from being a Reaper, and from what little he’d mentioned, Octavia strongly suspected Cage had had a hand in that too.

Octavia reflected that _omon gon oyon_ might have been a solemn vow she had every intention of keeping, but it didn’t mean she had to go out of her way for people who had no intention of being reasoned into helping for the good of peace and harmony, like Cage Wallace or his lackeys.

But if Raven Reyes asked her to go into a nuclear reactor because it would stop _Praimfaya_ —

Without question.

Wells joined Octavia and called, “Guys, let’s stay close to the ship, okay? Keep an eye on each other, and don’t wander off, all right?”

Octavia bellowed, “You heard Wells. We gotta stay safe!”

Nods and murmurs of assent went through the clearing by the dropship, and a couple of people called out that they would see if they could do sentry duty at the top of the ship so they could see better if the yellow acid fog would return. Octavia saw them already beginning to try and scale the side of the ship, and hoped they wouldn’t fall off by accident.

Octavia busied herself making more spears with Miller’s group, even though Wells had nixed any hunting parties for the time being. He did, however, give his okay for a small fruit-gathering group to go get some berries as there was a grove only a few minutes’ walking distance away.

* * *

The first to return (by midafternoon, as best as Octavia could reckon time) were Clarke, Bellamy and Finn.

Octavia leaped up out of her seat and dashed for Clarke and Bellamy, sweeping them both in fervent bear-hugs, one after the other. “You’re safe!” she exclaimed, grinning.

Finn mock-pouted. “What, I’m just a spare Ark part?”

Octavia mock-punched his shoulder. “And it’s good to have you back too.”

To the trio, she asked, “Did you see that yellow fog? It burned, like acid.”

They all nodded, and Clarke said, “Finn was lucky: he spotted a wheel sticking up out of the ground, like the ones we have on the Ark to turn to unlock a door, and we managed to jump down into this small bunker just in time.”

Finn took up the thread, holding out a pencil crayon. “It’s got this kind of stuff in it – pencils, a few supplies, things like that. I can bring a few people out there to check it out and haul stuff back, maybe.”

Bellamy wrapped up, saying, “We didn’t get as far as I’d have liked, but especially now that we’ve found an old personal bunker, there’s got to be other places like that too – places that aren’t as far away as Mount Weather, but which still have supplies we can use.”

Wells, by now, had approached Clarke and the others, and tentatively said, “Hey. I’m glad you made it back.”

Clarke turned to look at Wells, and something like a gleam of understanding, or compassion, or benevolence, seemed to shine in Clarke’s eye for a moment before she gave Wells a half-smile and said, “We’ve got a lot to talk about.” She glared down at her bracelet, and muttered, “So does my mom, when we get communications back.”

Wells grinned at Clarke. “Does that mean you’re—”

Clarke shook her head and led him off to a tent.

Octavia, puzzled, looked at Bellamy and Finn. “What was _that_?”

Bellamy shrugged. “Ask this guy. Is anyone else missing?”

Octavia bit her lip. “Nobody’s dead – worst that’s happened is a few of us got rashes on our arms. But we’ve got three or four more people missing.”

Bellamy grimaced and ground out, “ _Shit!_ Which way did they go, O?”

Octavia could only shrug helplessly. “Two of them were Murphy and Mbege. I got in a fight with Murphy after he tried propositioning Monroe—”

Before Bellamy could open his mouth to go on a rant, Octavia barked, “Damnit, he was gonna knife me! What did you want me to do, just stand there?”

Bellamy’s face darkened and he reached behind his jacket to adjust the gun in his pants. Octavia reached up and held Bellamy’s shoulders. She said softly, “Bell, I told you you can’t always protect me. I’ve got to fend for myself sometimes and that’s just how it’s going to be down here.”

Bellamy looked at Finn, then around at the tents, and grunted, “Hmpf.” He stalked off, presumably to get some water.

Octavia turned to Finn. “Some particular reason you were just hanging out here instead of wandering off?”

Finn blushed. “Busted. Um, I was kind of checking you out.” He gave her a disarming grin which, Octavia allowed, would’ve swayed her in her _before_ life. She _had_ been infatuated with him once upon a time.

On this occasion, Octavia stood, stolidly unimpressed. “That’s nice that you think I’m a hot piece of ass for your next conquest.”

Finn spluttered, “What the hell are you imp—”

Octavia leaned in. “I’m not _dumb_ , Finn. I once saw you go into your cell with a girl who wasn’t in the prison. She was dressed like a mechanic, and I’m _pretty_ sure that visit was very conjugal.”

(That was actually true; Octavia, _before_ , just hadn’t attached any importance to that visit she’d spotted about two months prior to their descent to the ground.)

Finn had the good grace to look embarrassed. “Okay, you caught me. I just—Raven’s not _here_ and the Ark’s dying anyway, so why not have a good time while we’re waiting? It’s not like she’ll even know I’m on the ground.”

Octavia shook her head in disbelief. Raven was attractive and smart, and if the Ark wasn’t on the verge of disaster, probably would’ve easily ‘gone places’, rising up the social hierarchy to become one of the chief engineers, maybe even a Councillor, once Sinclair retired.

And she would’ve pulled Finn with her, turning him into a respectable member of Ark society.

 _What a fucking waste_ , mused Octavia. _He wanted – and wants – to throw away a committed relationship practically the moment the dropship landed_.

Out loud, she just said, “So what’s with Clarke and Wells?”

Finn looked away. “It isn’t really my story to tell. All I can say is, some things she said about her time with Wells didn’t really jibe a hundred percent, and I might’ve said a few things that made her rethink what she knew.”

 _That_ got Octavia’s curiosity roaring into high gear, but she would have to be satisfied with the explanation she got, coupled with some of her other-world knowledge: the rift (whatever it was) between Clarke and Wells was clearly no longer there.

Shouts from the other end of the clearing got Octavia’s attention. She raced over and saw Jasper, healthy and intact, dragging along John Mbege, who clearly had a hurt foot or ankle, and bringing up the rear were a rather healthy Harper and Murphy, along with a shorter girl. Octavia momentarily staggered as relief washed through her, accompanied by a gasped sigh.

Octavia, her hands resting on her knees for a moment, looked again at the younger girl and squinted as she went through her memories. Then it clicked! She was Charlotte, the one who’d confessed to killing Wells _before_. A chill went up Octavia’s spine as she stood up again. At least, she thought, Harper was holding Charlotte’s hand, frequently looking down to ensure the girl wasn’t going to get lost in the crowd of people forming. Better her than Bellamy; she knew something Bellamy had said to her made her think she needed to kill Wells.

Jasper was already bragging, “I helped get them all into a cave when the acid fog came down!”

One of the girls, a rather attractive brunette, was gazing up adoringly at Jasper and squealing, “ _Really?_ Oh my God, you must’ve been so _brave_.”

Octavia barely repressed a snicker as Finn grinned at her. “He wants his moment in the sunlight, all right,” Finn observed.

Octavia barked over the crowd, “Okay, come on. Let’s get Mbege into the dropship so we can rest his leg. Then you all can tell stories to each other, okay?”

Deciding she needed to be the bigger person here, Octavia went over to Mbege’s left side, and called out, “Okay, you can brace yourself against me now. Someone else, get under his arm when we move away from Jasper.”

Octavia set her feet firmly, and let the taller boy’s weight sag against her. Another girl, Jill, got on Mbege’s right as his arm slid off Jasper’s shoulders, and the two, with Mbege half-stumbling, got him into the dropship and rested on one of the hammocks. That done, Octavia nodded to Jill, who left to go back out to hear Jasper’s stories.

Murphy trailed behind and grabbed a chair to sit near his friend. He looked up at Octavia and grunted, “S’pose I owe you thanks. Everybody else was too busy crowding around Mr. Popular.”

Octavia nodded briskly. “Just don’t try to start a fight with me again and we’re good.”

Murphy snorted. “Yeah, that’d be a good idea; I dunno what else you’ve got up your sleeve.”

Clarke, apparently having overheard the commotion when the other group returned (and with Wells in tow), was already approaching and nodding to Octavia. “I can take it from here; thanks for helping get his foot rested.” She began carefully removing Mbege’s shoe to take a closer look at his ankle. Octavia nodded back to Clarke and turned to leave.

On the way back out of the dropship, Octavia bumped into Harper, whose arm was around a slightly trembling Charlotte. Octavia crouched so she could be at Charlotte’s level. “Hey. Are you all right, sweetie?”

It didn’t exactly roll smoothly off Octavia’s tongue, and she could just hear Harper trying to muffle a small snicker. Still, Charlotte gave Octavia a wan smile. “It’s better now that I’m in here. That yellow fog was _really_ scary!”

Harper added, “Jasper and I were trying to do some hunting when those other two guys”—she pointed over at the two Johns in the far corner—“stumbled across us. We argued for a bit but I managed to get them to see there was safety in numbers, so we all stuck together. Charlotte here must’ve wandered off, because we bumped into her on one of the trails nearby.”

Octavia gasped. “Charlotte! Please be more careful next time, all right?” When the girl retreated a bit, Octavia reached out, gently holding her arm. “I’m not mad at you. I _promise_. I’m just scared for you, because we’re mostly older and we’re supposed to be looking out for you.”

Charlotte gave Octavia another small smile. “It was just after I ran into all of them the fog came. And John, over there, he hurt his foot when he tripped over something and Jasper had to help him. We found this big, deep cave and hid out in it ‘cause the fog didn’t get in that far.”

Harper, by now kneeling down as well, smiled and squeezed Charlotte’s shoulder. “She was very brave, but she was still really scared because it was dark.” To Charlotte, she said, “Honey, is it okay if I tell Octavia about your dream, or do you want to tell her?”

Charlotte hesitated, then nodded. She said, slowly, haltingly, “Sometimes – I keep seeing the Chancellor float my parents. And – and sometimes – Wells looks too much like him and I want to run away and that’s why I was so far from the camp.”

In that moment, Octavia’s heart broke. She reached out and drew Charlotte into a heartfelt embrace. She whispered to Charlotte, “If that happens again you can always talk to Harper or me, all right?”

Charlotte nodded against her shoulder, and Octavia slowly let her go, trying not to blink too rapidly. In a slightly wobbly voice, Octavia concluded, “We all have to face our demons. But the way we do that is we don’t hide them inside ourselves; we have someone else we can talk to about it, okay? So promise me you’ll talk. And if you can’t talk to either of us try to talk to Clarke. Her mother’s a doctor, so she knows some medical and brain stuff, right?”

Charlotte’s mouth broadened into a grin. “Thanks, Octavia.” She turned to Harper, who enveloped Charlotte in a hug as well. “And thanks, Harper.”

The two older girls stood and sent Charlotte off to get some water rations. When they were alone, Octavia shook her head. “She’s had _nobody_. Not since her parents got floated. At least I had Bellamy for fifteen years.”

Harper nodded. “And even after I got arrested I still had my mom and dad – at least when Dad was well enough to come on visiting days.”

In a lower voice, Octavia warned, “Please keep an eye on her, if you can. She might try to hurt Wells.”

Harper, eyes wide, gasped, “You can’t be serious.”

“What if someone said you could push a button and float Jaha? Even if it meant you’d get floated right after? Or, maybe instead they say you can push a button and make Wells disappear to hurt his dad? I mean, in your head you know Wells was not the one to vote for a floating, but in your heart you just want to get back at the Council _somehow_ , even if it would just hurt you too.”

Harper looked away. She heaved a sigh and crossed her arms. “I hate it when you’re right, Fighter Girl.”

Octavia rolled her eyes. “Oh my _god_ , please don’t tell me that nickname Miller came up with is already going around.”

Harper laughed and put her hand on Octavia’s shoulder, guiding them back out into the afternoon sunlight. “So, what _exactly_ did you do to deserve that monker anyway?”

Octavia, somewhat reluctantly, related the story as they walked down the ramp, and Harper’s laughter at the end of it (even if it was at her expense, a bit) was infectious; Octavia found herself laughing as well, and wished for a moment that mood could go on forever.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, back again! I'm finding the narrative continues to favor occasional bouts of introspection by Octavia. Funny how these things take on a life of their own in some respects. :)
> 
> Please enjoy the new chapter, and feel free to comment/critique/etc in reviews!

After bantering with Harper, Octavia remembered communications. She beckoned Harper to come with her, and they both went up the ladder to the top level where Monty had been working all through the day.

Monty called, “So far, I haven’t had much luck.”

Octavia and Harper came over to sit near him, and Octavia grimaced. “Damn. My wristband was useless, then.”

Monty made a see-saw gesture with his hand. “Well, _one_ thing I did manage to work out is my diagnostics say everything should work. All the circuits are connected and all we need is a device that has power. It’s just that your wristband, Octavia, had a safety shutdown mode when we broke it off this morning.”

Harper leaned over to ruffle Monty’s hair and grinned. “So, you could make it work if you got a wristband off a different way?”

Monty grinned at Harper. “I could, yeah.”

Before they could say anything, Clarke’s head popped up out of the opening to the second level. She barked, “Can you guys use my wristband?!”

Monty, startled, hesitated as he said, “Y-yes, but we need it to have a working power source first—”

Wells’s voice called up from below, “Clarke, _please_ , we can use someone else’s first, can’t we?”

Clarke huffed, then rose up the ladder and crouched near the others to let Wells up, who went to join Monty. They began babbling engineering lingo at each other; Octavia could tell from the fact that Wells wasn’t grimacing or wincing that at least Monty was saying everything looked fine.

Octavia sighed. _Give me a sword or a gun and I’ll eviscerate anyone who comes at me_ , she said to herself. _But this tech stuff – Bellamy never really explained a lot of it to me, and I was always more interested in Lily Pads or mythology. And in the bunker, I had Cooper and Jackson and the others for the technical maintenance._

She hoped the delinquents wouldn’t need to forge themselves into warriors and fighters again. Too many of them had learned the hard way what it meant to kill someone – and in some cases, Octavia thought darkly, what it meant to do the unthinkable in the name of survival.

Silence abruptly fell as Monty and Wells seemed to come to agreement. Harper was the first to break the entrancement induced by the rapid patter of conversation between the two tech whizzes, and asked, “What if we try mine first? I – I hate to make my parents think I’m … gone, but if we can get communications it’ll be worth it.”

Monty and Wells looked at each other and nodded in unison. Wells said, “We’ll try to break it open like we did with Octavia’s, but we’re going to try and preserve the power source, so the bracelet still functions.”

Harper nodded and stuck her arm out. Monty reached out to clasp her free hand and smiled encouragingly at her. Meanwhile, Wells carefully nudged the end of the crowbar in between her wrist and the wristband, and began slowly breaking the links holding it around Harper’s arm.

Octavia mentally crossed her fingers; if they could get comms, they might be able to get Kane and Jaha to sign off on Raven taking a trip down and they could get extra provisions and maybe even a backup radio besides the one she brought down. They _needed_ her down on Earth, because without her they wouldn’t be able to get visual communications with the Ark or coordinate the Ark’s descent.

The _crack_ of Harper’s wristband wasn’t as loud as Octavia’s, but its suddenness still set everybody jumping a bit when it happened.

The small needles still buzzed and arced blue this time, and Monty grinned tentatively. He and Wells quickly began hooking it up to the dropship’s wires, but as soon as they connected the last wire, the wristband went dead and refused to power back up.

Monty groaned and dropped his head in his hands; Harper clasped his shoulder in sympathy. Wells swore softly and thumped his knee in frustration. Octavia looked up at Clarke, who wore a look of grim determination.

“I’m gonna stay up here as long as it takes for you to get my wristband off, even if it means I need to make a screwdriver or a chisel with my teeth and one hand,” Clarke declared. “So c’mon, let’s get to it.”

Octavia moved over the small barrier of the narrow quasi walkway that led to the open wall panel, letting Clarke crouch next to Wells and Monty. She held out her arm to Wells and smiled thinly. “Even if this doesn’t work, I’ll at least get to give my mom a good wake-up call.”

Octavia said, “Lemme know if you guys need anything from downstairs or outside. I can run back and forth.”

Monty snapped his fingers. “Actually, if you’ve got a knife on you we could see if that might work.”

Octavia reached into her pocket and pulled out the knife she’d taken off Murphy. “You mean this one?”

Wells whistled. “That’s a pretty wickedly sharp blade. Are you _sure_ you want to do this, Clarke?”

Octavia put her hand on Clarke’s shoulder. “You can still wait, Clarke. We could get Bellamy, use his wristband, if you want.”

Octavia let go of Clarke’s shoulder as the other girl said, “No. We’re gonna do this. My mom deserves this wake-up call and she can damn well suffer for a little bit until we get communications!”

Wells turned to look at her, shock on his face. “Clarke…”

“ _No_ , Wells. I spent too long hating the wrong damn person!” Clarke barked. “Do it now, Monty.”

As Wells and Monty got to work carefully exploring the linkages on the dead wristbands and comparing them to Clarke’s, Octavia stared at the wall opposite, her vision growing unfocussed as she wondered what Clarke would have been like in the bunker.

_Would she have been like Cooper, having escaped certain death and become a loyal and almost fanatical follower?_

_Or would she have become like Kane, trying to be the conscience of Wonkru in a time when that was a luxury they seemingly could not afford?_

_Or perhaps Abby, diving into a pill bottle to try and escape the stresses caused by confronting the reality of decisions she could push Octavia into executing?_

Executing.

Octavia let out a bitter snort.

Oh, Octavia had _executed_ Abby’s plans, all right.

She, Octavia Blake, had killed people whose only crime was to be a normal, decent fucking human being. She’d executed them in the name of a twisted, fucked-up idea of a greater good – of bearing a weight so the rest of Wonkru wouldn’t have to.

Bile rose in her throat, and she gulped, trying not to let the others hear.

Bellamy had, in addition to reading Roman and Greek mythology, once talked of reading the Bible in its original languages. The Hebrew had utterly defeated him, but the Greek of the Bible era was, he said, readable enough, though the pronunciation had changed from the ancient Greek he knew in more detail.

At one point, he’d read out: “ta gar opsonia tes amartias thanatos” (at least, as best as she remembered), and he had explained that it was literally, “the for wages of the sins death”, or:

 _The wages of sin is death_.

By that measure, Octavia should be dead many times over. Whatever was in that ration Bellamy had fed her should have ended her life.

And yet – she was alive.

Not just alive, but alive _again_.

 _By what right_ , Octavia wondered, _did she deserve a second chance?_

The second part of that verse ran, _but the gift of God is eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord_.

Octavia had never had much use for religious faith on an Ark which had deemed her very existence a crime, and certainly not in the hard years that followed after she’d landed on the ground. Nor, now, did she see any reason to suddenly take that verse as literal truth.

 _But_ , she mused, something _had certainly decided to give her a gift she could never repay._

But she would do her best, and do her damnedest to set the world on a better path.

 _Omon gon oyon_. All of me for all of you.

* * *

Clarke’s wristband opened with what was almost a polite _click_ , and Monty hissed, “ _Yes!_ ” as he handed Octavia’s knife back to her.

Octavia jerked out of her brown study and peered over Clarke’s shoulder. “Did you guys do it?” she breathed.

Clarke and Wells both grinned in unison, and Wells said, “Okay. Who remembers Morse code? I think we can try that.”

Octavia looked at the jury-rigged comms circuit, and the only thing she could really tell was that, first, the blue needle-lights stayed lit, and that a red LED which Wells pointed to was on a connection to one part of the wristband.

Monty carefully wiggled the wire one way, and the LED went out. Octavia’s breath hitched. _Had it failed?!_

Monty moved the wire back, and the LED went back on.

Harper squealed, “It worked! Am I right?”

Monty beamed at her. “I think so! The red light is the channel status. When it’s on, the telemetry is communicating. When it’s off, it’s not. Right now, it’s probably giving zero life signs, but is still indicating that it’s powered on. Hopefully they’re watching for that on the Ark.” He took a deep breath. “Okay. Morse Code. Um, SOS would be the easiest but might be a bad idea. ‘Alive’ – lemme think; that’s short, long, short, long, short, short, short, short, short, short, short, long, short.”

Clarke said, “Octavia, go get Finn and that pencil he had. We need to write this down.”

“Got it!” Octavia gave her the thumbs up and darted down the dropship ladder. After she hit the ground floor, she quickly swept through the camp. She spotted Jasper amid a small group of people, grinning and playing some kind of game with them. A few moments later, she spotted Finn helping to sort out berries in a group of people. He was sitting a bit closer to one of the girls than might be accounted for out of pure chance; Octavia mentally rolled her eyes.

Out loud, Octavia called, “Hey, Finn? Clarke wants that pencil-thing you got.”

Finn grinned. “Sure thing! Tell her I’m outside, would you?”

“Yeah. Sure,” Octavia replied flatly. She made a ‘gimme’ motion, and said, “Pencil. Now.”

Finn handed it over, and Octavia swiftly re-entered the dropship and headed back up to the topmost level. “Got it, guys!”

Clarke grinned. “Great! Here, we’ll write it on the wall. Someone, hold up the lamp.”

Harper held up the lamp on the floor, and Clarke half-stood, bracing herself on Wells’s shoulder to make the symbols Monty said meant “ALIVE” in Morse code.

When Clarke was done, she pocketed the pencil and said, “Dots are short, and bars are long. Got it.”

Monty, all the while, had been steadily tweaking the wire, sending the all-important signals that the Ark should be receiving. Octavia bit her lip. “How are we gonna know they know what the signals mean?”

Wells sighed. “We won’t, unless we can rig this to receive. Getting it set up to send was hard enough, and that was only possible because the wristbands are set up that way.”

“You want me to send Jasper up here? I saw him jabbering with some people outside,” Octavia replied.

Monty nodded. “I could use his help. Wells has been great, but I think we’re gonna need all hands on deck for the send function.”

Octavia wasted no time exiting the dropship again and making a beeline for Jasper, who had a girl practically climbing into his lap as he made ready to toss a piece of wood into a circle. He looked up and stuttered, “H-Hey, Octavia!” He vainly tried to make it look like he wasn’t about to make out with the girl.

Octavia _did_ openly roll her eyes this time and said, “Jasper, Monty needs you up in the dropship.”

The brunette’s face fell, but she leaned in and gave Jasper a lingering kiss on the mouth that clearly left him breathless. “That’s for later,” she purred.

Octavia sighed. “Now would be nice, Jasper.”

Jasper got up, stumbling forward out of the group. He awkwardly waved and said, “See ya later!”

A few people gave him scattered replies of encouragement, and Octavia walked beside Jasper back to the dropship. She chanced a look down at the bulge in his pants and smirked. “Trying to hide that thing’ll be impossible, you know.”

Jasper spluttered, “I – uh, I wasn’t – you know… back there.”

On the ramp, Octavia stopped Jasper, putting her hand on his arm. Looking him in the eyes, she said, “Remember what I said? We’re not exclusive and down here, we’re all gonna have to take care of ourselves. So use some common sense, but as far as I’m concerned, you’re a big boy and can take care of yourself. So go ahead, get with her later if you want, but right now Monty needs your help.”

And so saying, Octavia propelled Jasper with a push to his back, ushering him up the ladder to the top floor. As she rejoined them, Jasper and Monty pointed at each other, grinned, and did their usual mutual self-high-five.

“So what’s happening, guys?”

Harper and Clarke moved away, letting Jasper join Wells and Monty.

“We’ve got a send functionality for communications – we _think_ – and we want to try and set up reception. As far as I can tell we’re on the Ark-wide channel, or on the wristband channel. Either should be continuously monitored – which means someone up there will try to send a reply,” said Monty. He concluded, “When they can’t, they might assume it’s a coincidence or an accident.”

“ _Accidental_ Morse Code?” scoffed Clarke.

“This is why we need you, Jasper.” Monty clapped his friend on the shoulder. “We can show those doofuses up on the Ark we’re communicating for real.”

With that, the boys began babbling more incomprehensible engineering jargon at each other, with Monty remembering to send the signals at irregular intervals.

Harper eyed Clarke and Octavia, and made a head-tilt towards the ladder. Octavia nodded, as did Clarke. The girls got up; Harper called, “We’ll bring you guys up some food later, okay?”

The three boys waved distractedly, and continued on their merry way. Harper looked at Monty fondly and shook her head. “Looks like I got a boyfriend with his head in the clouds.”

Octavia grinned and chuckled. “C’mon, let’s get down there. I’m sure we can find stuff to do, like look for more bunkers and all that.”

She began descending the ladder, leaving Clarke to explain to Harper as they followed behind. Outside, Octavia could see it was now close to evening, and the sun would soon set. There wasn’t much time for her to find Lincoln.

A small smile ghosted across her face at the one good thing she’d had in her life, either _before_ or now.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to thank you all for reading this fic, and particular thanks must go to **Miunala** , who kindly betaed this chapter for me and made some good suggestions that improved the text. :)
> 
> All errors are, however, my own. Please enjoy!

Octavia said to Harper and Clarke outside the dropship, “I’m going to check in with Bellamy. He got a little heated when I told him Murphy tried to attack me—”

Clarke gasped. Harper turned to her and said, “It’s okay. You can see Octavia isn’t hurt.”

Octavia nodded and held up the knife she’d confiscated from Murphy. “Yeah. This knife – I got it off of him when he tried lunging at me with it after I called him out on being a lazy creep. We’ve got a kind of truce now, maybe, but Bellamy gets a little hotheaded when it comes to me and I need to make sure he won’t start in on Murphy.”

Clarke, clearly relieved, nodded. “As long as there won’t be any more fighting in our camp. We’re going to need to sit down soon and work out what to do if someone acts up.”

Octavia couldn’t help the shiver that ran down her spine. _Murphy being strangled as he hung from a rope – the somber news that Charlotte had thrown herself off a cliff…_

Murphy was a dick, granted, but he hadn’t deserved to be executed – even if he _had_ killed Wells. Banishing him would’ve been just as good in those early days.

Harper said, “Maybe some of us should get together and decide on some rules.”

“Good idea,” agreed Clarke. “Maybe you, Octavia, me, Bellamy, Wells, Jasper and Monty; we’ll hammer out something later tonight. That way when we announce it, it won’t sound like a Chancellor giving orders from on high.”

Octavia smiled at the other girls, then craned her neck, spotting Bellamy talking to Miller; the latter was holding up a spear to show it to Bellamy. She indicated she was going over to Bellamy, then waved to them and walked over to her brother.

“Hey, Bellamy,” she called when she got within talking distance.

Bellamy turned. “Hey.” He frowned. “Do I need to do something about Murphy? I’ve been hearing other people complaining about him.”

Octavia sighed. She grabbed Bellamy’s arm, tugging him away from Miller. “About Murphy – don’t. All you’ll do is get in a mess with his friends; believe it or not, he has some, if that little gang he had hanging around him the first day is any indication.”

“We’ve got to lay down some rules, though,” griped Bellamy. “He can’t just go around mouthing off and doing whatever the hell he wants.”

Octavia replied, “Talk to Clarke. She and Harper got an idea to brainstorm a set of rules later on.”

Bellamy nodded. “That’s a good idea.”

Octavia leaned in and said in a low voice, “We’re working on communications. That means we’re _going_ to find out about whatever you did on the Ark eventually.”

Bellamy’s Adam’s Apple bobbed as he tried to affect a look of unconcern. “So? If they think we’re dead, it won’t matter.”

Remembering her shock and dismay when Clarke had called out Bellamy’s hypocrisy _before_ , she stared at Bellamy. It didn’t take much acting for Octavia to whisper, “You’d really let them all _die_ just so you won’t have to deal with shooting someone?”

With a harassed look on his face, Bellamy said tightly, “Nobody’s saying that, okay? But I _promised_ Mom. I promised her I wouldn’t ever let anything happen to you and—” Bellamy looked away, his nostrils flaring.

“… And you did that, okay?” Octavia reached up, gently nudging Bellamy’s face so they could see eye to eye. “But I didn’t _ask_ you to do that. You know I’d never make you put yourself in danger for me. Ever. And especially not after I was so stupid that day of the party—”

 _Oh, god, she had been_ so _fucking naïve._ Not even looking up a map of the Ark, or – or even just memorizing the doors and hallways. Octavia had just been so entranced at the thought that Bellamy had worked the impossible, that her hero-brother had found a way for her to explore the world beyond just the few tens of square feet of their quarters, that she’d been utterly heedless of the danger Bellamy was taking on for himself.

Bellamy grasped Octavia’s shoulders. “No, Octavia! It was never your fault. Okay? My sister, my responsibility. That’s what Mom said. And when I had the chance to protect you down here, I couldn’t just stand by. I _couldn’t_ , O.”

Octavia blinked and swallowed hard. She looked down at the ground and mumbled, “I know.”

Bellamy fidgeted as he lowered his hands. He looked around and pulled her off to a small semicircle surrounded by bushes and trees. His gaze darted this way and that as he spoke quickly and quietly. “I’ll tell you what I did. Shumway came to me. He said take the gun and go shoot Jaha. If I did that at the right time, I’d have ten, twenty minutes before anyone found him and I’d be able to sneak onto the dropship. Just another guard helping in the last-minute inspections before takeoff.” Bellamy licked his hips as he eyed Octavia. “I swear, if there had been any other way—”

Octavia, having been laden down with the weight of having to pick from the best of a set of bad alternatives, sighed and gazed into her brother’s eyes. “Okay. So Jaha could be dead. Is that what you’re saying?”

Bellamy nodded.

Octavia huffed a sigh – somewhat theatrically, she knew, but the weight of Jaha being potentially dead didn’t hit her the same way it would’ve hit Clarke, and she needed to at least _appear_ concerned and puzzled.

“All right. We’ll cross that bridge when the time comes, and I promise, if the rest of the Ark comes down and they still want you, we’ll take off. We’ll hide out. There might even be people here, people who’d help us.”

Bellamy leaned in. “You believe that? From what – one noise you guys heard before that orange fog rolled in?”

Octavia grabbed Bellamy’s forearm. “ _I_ believe it! There was no way any of us made that horn-sound, and I’m pretty sure you guys didn’t either. And Harper would swear on anything her group didn’t, as well. There’s gotta be _Grounders_ here!”

“But what if they want to kill us first?” wondered Bellamy.

“We haven’t done anything that looks hostile. We’ve just been exploring and gathering berries and being kind of pathetic at hunting, right?”

That last forced a snort from Bellamy as Octavia let go of Bellamy’s arm. “I guess as long as we’re careful,” he decided. Then he shifted his stance and continued. “Well, wherever you are, I’ll stay. And I promise not to get rough with the guys you, uh, meet.”

Octavia arched an eyebrow. “And if I like girls, too?”

Bellamy choked and blurted, “Okay, more than I needed to know. You’ve made your point, and I’m pretty sure you meant it about Jasper.”

Octavia crossed her arms. “You bet I did.” She looked Bellamy in the eye. “You took care of me for fifteen years, Bell. But now it’s time for me to do it on my own. And I mean it when I won’t speak to you if you do something dumb with that macho mano-a-mano bullshit: I’m not your personal property.”

Bellamy stepped back, hands up in mock-surrender. “You’ve made your point.”

“I’m gonna go explore for some berries, okay? Wells knows about some plants that are like, five minutes away.”

“By yourself?”

“It really _is_ less than five minutes away from here, I swear,” groaned Octavia.

“All right. I’ll let Wells know and go talk to Clarke about the rules thing,” Bellamy said, stepping back as he conceded Octavia’s point about her independence and (apparent) caution and good sense.

In actual fact, of course, Octavia planned to find a waterfall and small pool she remembered Clarke and Finn having found when they were searching for Jasper. With that more reliable source of water, the delinquents would be in no danger of accidentally tangling with a river beast or an annoyed member of Trikru.

As Octavia walked out of the camp, desultorily waving at teenagers patching clothes, checking over their tents (or each other, depending on what held their interest more), and so forth, that thought about the Trikru people brought forth her complex relationship with her mentor, Indra.

The sounds of the camp died away as Octavia strode into the forest, peering at the trees as she tried to remember the guideposts which would, as though a _gona_ had a map in their head, tell how to get to the water pool.

 _Indra and Lincoln_.

In another life, would she and Lincoln have been able to marry, live together, have children? Would Indra have been willing to train them in the ways of the Trikru?

Octavia’s hand rubbed her stomach almost unconsciously. Would she have wanted to bring a child into this world?

Maybe – if she hadn’t known about _Praimfaya_.

She had had some bad scares with her period in the bunker in those early months, wondering if she was carrying Ilian’s child. But Abby had explained to her it was stress and worry – and Jackson had backed her up on that – which was causing her cycle to become irregular. And sure enough, after about six months had gone by in the bunker, when Wonkru had begun forming in earnest after her first demonstration that she was not afraid to mete out the ultimate penalty for lawbreaking, her cycle had gone back to normal.

But _Praimfaya_ changed all the rules, as did that _joken_ bunker. You couldn’t have a child in those conditions – not if you knew there was a good risk he or she might die.

(Thankfully, Octavia had had the foresight to exempt children under the age of fourteen from being required to fight in the pit. Gaia’s own brand of harshness could often set them straight, since she forced misbehaving novitiates to do all kinds of exercises until they couldn’t do them anymore.)

(And thank whatever fates there were that no child had died during the Dark Year.)

The slight rustling of tree leaves caught Octavia’s ear; to cover her momentary hesitation, she let her foot catch a convenient tree root poking up out of the ground, stumbling as she did so. “Whoa!” she yelped, loud enough for Lincoln (for she was absolutely sure he was following her) to hear.

( _Why_ had _he focused on her the first time,_ she wondered. _Maybe it was just that he felt a kindred spirit, somehow. After all, he hadn’t always liked or followed all of the Trikru’s rules, and she herself had been physically and psychologically restrained by the Ark’s rules_.)

 _Before_ , with his steadfast refusal to communicate in _gonasleng_ (understandable in retrospect), it had just all gone sideways ending with her needing to poison herself with his knife just to get him to unbend enough to help save Finn.

This time around, though, she needed to get his attention and get him to actually _talk_. All while being hopefully rather dignified – though, as she smirked to herself, there was at least one way to maybe make him fall out of a tree.

But she’d keep that in reserve, for now.

The rushing of water got Octavia’s attention, and soon she came across the pool and waterfall. She knelt down to scoop up some water, and drank before standing back up. She hefted her knife and spotted a convenient tree about twenty feet away or so. She lined up her knife, fixing her gaze at the tree, and—

_THWACK!_

The blade landed true, now firmly embedded in the tree bark. Octavia grinned and went to get her knife for some more rounds of target practice.

Several trees later, it was almost sunset.

 _Damnit, I’m running out of time_ , groused Octavia.

She pretended as though she’d heard something, cocking her ear as she turned this way and that. She called out, “Is anyone there?!”

No response.

She tried again. She called up to the trees, “Look, I know someone’s _gotta_ be out there. I heard your horn above our camp, just before that acid fog rolled in. I wanna thank you for it.”

She looked down at the knife in her hand. _Oops_. “Um, I know I have a knife and I’m pretty good with my target practice, but there’s, like, wild animals and stuff. I’m gonna put my knife down in case you were waiting for that.”

And so saying, she tossed it off to one side, where she could still lunge for it if she had to, but not without some effort.

Just before Octavia was ready to give it all up as a bad job and march back to the dropship, the tree above her began rustling, and a few moments later, a tall, masked Grounder jumped down off the lowest branch to stand before her.

Octavia’s breath hitched. She stood steady, her hands open by her sides, not daring to make any sudden moves.

The Grounder reached up to pull his mask off, revealing the very familiar dark, handsome face of _Linkon kom Trikru_.

Octavia just barely managed to dredge up every last bit of her _Seken_ training and her subsequent years as _Skairipa en Blodreina_ , and held herself fast as she blinked rapidly at the man only a few feet away from her.

He was _alive_ again!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to thank you all for reading this fic, and particular thanks must go to **Miunala** , who kindly betaed this chapter for me. :)
> 
> All errors are, however, my own. Please enjoy!

Octavia stared for a few more moments, then swallowed with an audible gulp. Just to hold Lincoln, to feel his solidity one more time—even if she might never be able to be with him the way he would want…

“W-who are you?!” Octavia deliberately took short, shallow breaths as she kept her hands spread, portraying uncertainty and fear at an unknown person suddenly appearing before her.

Lincoln stood impassively for a moment, seeming to take all of Octavia in at a glance. He seemed to come to some kind of decision, and spoke in English. “I am Lincoln.”

Octavia’s eyes went wide and she gasped. “You—you can understand me!” _Why had he so easily admitted this? Could the Trikru have really been so paranoid about the Mountain Men that Jasper’s changed actions swung the entire course of history on a different path?_

“Yes. I – I have been watching your gathering of people from the sky,” admitted Lincoln.

Octavia slowly lowered her hands. “Just you? Or are there more of you?” At Lincoln’s expectant look, she chuckled nervously (not entirely feigned), and said, “Oh! Um, I’m Octavia. I guess you could say I’m from the Sky People, then.”

“I am the only watcher.” Lincoln apparently decided he needed to look less threatening, and took off his bulky outer jacket, revealing a worn T-shirt underneath. Octavia tried not to lick her lips at seeing the curve of his chest under it.

Octavia looked at her knife and back to Lincoln. “It’s getting darker. Can – can I get my knife? I’ll feel safer.”

Lincoln shook his head. “Stay where you are for now.”

That wasn’t an idle threat, Octavia knew. Lincoln might not be a _gona_ , but he had fast reflexes and was stronger than her by a good margin. And _before_ , it had only been by the sheerest luck that she’d been able to get the drop on him in his home-away-from-home, that little cave where he stored some of his possessions.

Octavia shifted on her feet, but stilled at Lincoln’s warning look. “Sorry,” Octavia muttered. “It’s just – can I sit down? Standing like this is kind of a pain.”

_Was that the ghost of a smile on Lincoln’s lips for a second?_

She couldn’t be sure; the light was getting poor. But maybe he was starting to see her as less of a threat and more as possible new companion.

Lincoln, for his part, smoothly lowered himself to sit up against one of the tree trunks, and gestured for her to sit against one opposite him.

Octavia gratefully sank to a seated position, her back up against the tree behind her, her legs crossed. She sighed in relief and said, “Thanks!”

When Lincoln didn’t pick up the conversation after that, Octavia leaned forward and said, “I – I don’t even know where to start here. I mean, you’re proof that there’s people _living_ down here, and just—like, it’s gonna blow everybody’s mind when I bring you back to our camp!” Octavia hesitated, then quickly added, “I mean, if you want to.”

Lincoln tilted his head and frowned. “How can I be sure you are not a threat?”

Octavia bit her lip. “I don’t know how to prove that. I only know that none of us are looking for a war. I mean, we didn’t even think there was anyone else on Earth at _all_ to begin with! And if you’ve been watching us you know we mostly eat berries, try to get water, make fires, and hunt badly. Plus, probably a quarter of us are more interested in exploring each other than this place around us, anyhow. Does that sound like people who want to fight?”

Lincoln nodded. “What you say sounds like truth.” He frowned. “And your people in the sky – they truly know nothing of us?”

Octavia shook her head and leaned forward, reaching out for Lincoln. “It’s the truth. I swear. We live in this… it’s like a small city made totally out of metal, up there—” She pointed skyward.

Octavia’s glance followed her finger, and she noted the dark blue sky in the now-swiftly-gathering twilight. “We have plants and scrubbers and… anyway, the point is that our Ark, our city of metal, is dying. So our leaders sent us kids down kind of as a test. We’re all criminals – we broke laws up there – so they figured, why not send a hundred people with nothing to lose?”

“Criminals?” Lincoln leaned forward in his turn. “I want to believe none of you mean us – the Tree People – harm, but a smile can hide much, Octavia.” His voice grew stern. “And one of you has a _fayogon_.”

Octavia blinked, trying to keep her pretence of an innocent naïve girl intact. “F… fire gun? You mean Bellamy’s pistol? He hasn’t used it, as far as I know. And, truthfully, many of the laws we’ve broken are not great ones. Monty and Jasper – all they did was take some plants that weren’t theirs, and weren’t even necessary for food. Or Clarke – she tried to warn my people about our air problem. And me – I… I was thrown in jail for being a second child. We – we’re not allowed to have more than one child, and Bellamy’s my b-brother.”

Octavia found, to her surprise, that she was sniffling. She was _Blodreina_ , and yet seven years had not sufficed to heal over that wound. God, it _hurt_ – it still _hurt_ so fucking much to know she was a burden, an unwanted addition to a people who never called her one of their own except when she demanded their courtesy and respect.

Octavia jumped in shock as Lincoln’s arm went around her. She looked up and saw that he’d shifted to crouch next to her. She leaned her head on his shoulder, and hesitantly put her arm out to rest her hand on his back, feeling the warmth and strength emanating from him.

“Thanks,” she whispered.

Lincoln rubbed her back. “You are welcome. In my people’s language, _Trigedasleng_ , we say ‘ _pro_ ’.”

Octavia looked up at him – at Lincoln’s face, so close to her now. To anyone else, his expression might’ve been completely neutral, but Octavia knew, from his eyes, that he was once again finding in her a fellow spirit, someone who was a part of a society and yet not.

She wanted to hold him, kiss him, and so much more, but that was not yet and might never be. She affected a confused frown. “Praw?”

Lincoln smiled and let out a short chuckle. “Your accent is terrible.”

Octavia grinned. “So teach me! Please, I want to learn more about you guys – about everything down here!”

Lincoln stood up and extended his hand. “I can do that for you, _Okteivia kom Skaikru._ ”

Octavia gripped Lincoln’s hand, helping herself up. “Octavia come skycrew. Is that it?” She tilted her head and wrinkled her eyebrows in apparent thought.

“You may be good with a blade—” Lincoln paused as he went to grab up his coat, as well as her knife, and handed it back to her as he put his jacket back on. He smiled and continued, “But I really must teach you how to speak with a _Trikru_ accent.”

Octavia couldn’t help but preen at his compliment. “Well, how about you walk me back to our camp, and you can teach me how to say, ‘I’m a great knife tosser’ in that language, you called it Trig…?”

“ _Trigedasleng_ , and I can teach you what I can on the way,” Lincoln promised. He reached out and briefly touched her arm. “Come. Follow me and stay near me, please. It is almost full night and we must be careful.”

Octavia nodded and gestured for Lincoln to take the lead. Not long after that, they began talking in earnest, Lincoln’s voice soothing her as he spoke the familiar language that had become like her own over nearly seven years.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to thank you all for reading this fic, and I wish to thank **khaleesileksa** , who noted some technical errors I missed in this chapter. :)
> 
> Please enjoy, and don't hesitate to leave a review!

As they approached the camp, Octavia could hear scattered sounds of arguing. She turned back to Lincoln and hissed, “Wait here until I call you.”

Lincoln paused, then nodded once at Octavia and practically disappeared into a small grove of trees off to one side. Octavia couldn’t help smiling to herself in appreciation of the way Lincoln had managed to secret himself without audibly disturbing any leaves, then turned to continue the last fifty feet or so into the camp proper.

Bellamy was barking to Clarke, “I don’t _care_ ; she’s my sister, damnit! We should be heading out—”

Clarke broke in, hollering back, “And we have no proof any Grounders – if they exist – kidnapped her!” With somewhat less volume, but her voice still carrying over the camp, Clarke added, “Besides, Octavia can take care of herself. You might not want to believe it, but I can see it in her.”

Clarke’s vote of confidence warmed Octavia, but she needed to get the situation contained fast before Bellamy did something rash. So she bellowed, “ _Bellamy!_ I’m here, so calm down!”

Bellamy whirled towards the sound of her voice, then rushed up and frowned as he looked her over. “What the hell took you so long? ‘Five minutes away’, you said; it’s way past that!”

Octavia winced (and it wasn’t all feigned, either; the look on Bellamy’s face when he was arguing with Clarke had been a mix of despondence and desperation). She replied, “I’m sorry, Bell. I got distracted and wandered around for a bit. I found a waterfall and pool, though!”

At that, murmurs of excitement went around the camp. Someone called, “No more river beasts to worry about!”

Bellamy shifted on his feet and grimaced. “Okay, but that still couldn’t have taken you past sundown.”

“That’s ‘cause I ran into something none of us expected.” Octavia grinned and proclaimed, “Guys! I found a Grounder! There are _people_ down here!”

Murphy, somewhere in the crowd, scoffed, “Sure. Tell us another one!”

Uncertain murmurs went through the crowd, and people began shifting as they looked at one another, talking among themselves as they tried to decide if Octavia was telling the truth or not.

Octavia called out, “Lincoln, would you come in, please?”

As she’d half-hoped he would, Lincoln dropped out of the trees and landed in the clearing next to Octavia, his stance one of wary anticipation.

The camp exploded in a cacophony of amazed expostulations. Octavia could see Jasper nearly hyperventilating as he grabbed Monty’s shoulder and pointed. Others drew back a bit, huddling against each other at the sight of the tall, well-muscled, dangerous-looking new man in their midst.

Clarke, her eyes wide, shook herself and set her jaw in determination. She cautiously walked up to Lincoln, her hand outstretched. “Hi. I’m Clarke. Uh, Clarke Griffin. Octavia said you’re ... Lincoln?”

Lincoln nodded and extended his arm, causing Clarke momentary consternation as he grasped her forearm in the Trikru fashion. But she rallied quickly, gripping his arm with her hand and garnering an almost-unnoticeable smile from Lincoln as she performed the greeting ritual.

Octavia added, “Apparently we’re the Sky People.”

Bellamy strode up to Lincoln, his eyes sweeping the other man up and down, taking his measure. Lincoln did likewise, not budging an inch. Something in Bellamy seemed to uncoil and relax, for all he did after that was extend his arm for a greeting. “I’m Bellamy. Of the Sky People.”

Lincoln nodded gravely and extended his arm as well, and the two shook once, then separated.

Harper came up next and said, “Hi. Would you like something to eat? We have some berries and Monty and Jasper managed to build a rabbit trap, so we have some meat, too.” Speaking of those two, they had managed to compose themselves and were preening a bit at the mention of their talents.

Octavia sniffed the air and caught the faint smell of cooked meat.

 _All of me for all of us_.

_All of **him** for all of us._

She would later kick herself for not preparing herself for when something like this might happen, but as it was, it was all she could do at the time to keep from retching and causing an embarrassing scene. Her knees buckled and she staggered back a half step.

Harper gasped as she leaped forward to help steady her, Clarke leaping forward as well. Harper blurted, “Octavia, are you all right?! You look _really_ green!”

Octavia half-walked, half-staggered as Clarke took hold of her and guided her to a log. Clarke eased Octavia down to sit on it, then sat next to her on her right. Harper stayed standing nearby, anxiously biting her thumbnail as she watched Clarke and Octavia. As Clarke looked Octavia over, feeling her forehead while checking her pulse, Clarke asked, “Octavia, what have you eaten today?”

“Jus’... I dunno. Berries, I guess.” Her voice slurred through half-open lips. Her heart thudded against her chest as she breathed deliberately, slowly, trying not to panic as she called her meditations to mind.

Lincoln approached the log, rummaging in his pouch for something.

Murphy barked, “Hey! What do you think you’re doing?!”

Everybody but Clarke froze and stared at Murphy, arm outstretched, finger pointed at Lincoln not three feet away from him. Nobody dared move, the tension thickening in the air as he and Murphy stared at each other.

Clarke just muttered, “God, he’s an idiot.” Her hand withdrew from Octavia’s forehead, letting Octavia see more of the scene not a few feet from her.

As Octavia took in the standoff, she wheezed, “For _fuck’s_ sake, Murphy.”

Clarke said, “Don’t talk too much. Your skin’s still a bit clammy and your heart’s going faster than usual.” Clarke’s other hand was still gently encircling Octavia’s wrist, her fingers at the pulse point. She ground out, “Murphy’s behavior isn’t helping.” _No shit, Princess,_ groused Octavia.

Lincoln, for his part, slowly extracted a small vial, containing some greenish leaves. Murphy scowled and stepped back, lowering his arm. He grumbled, “I thought you were going for a knife.”

Bellamy materialized next to Murphy, grabbing his shoulder and roughly shoving him back. “Don’t try to play hero, Murphy. It doesn’t suit you.”

By now, Octavia’s breathing was mostly back to normal, but she still felt a bit queasy. The tension seemed to drain as Clarke called out, “What is that?”

Lincoln’s deep voice carried across the clearing as he replied, “Our people have found these leaves will help with sickness.” He slowly held out the vial to Clarke, who accepted it, releasing Octavia’s wrist as she then uncapped it and shook out some of the leaves.

“Chew them slowly,” urged Lincoln as he knelt near her.

Octavia took one from Clarke and began chewing on the slightly bitter leaf. Soon, her queasiness retreated and she was able to dredge up a smile. “I feel better. Thanks. Sorry about that. I think I just didn’t eat much today.”

Clarke let out a low sigh of relief and said in a low voice, “Promise me you’ll eat tonight. You need to keep your energy up.” She then turned back to Lincoln and said, “Okay, we’ve established you’re not here to hurt us. Would you mind talking to some of us privately, so we can find out more about each other? If you want some food we can give you some afterwards, if you like.”

Lincoln nodded.

Clarke called out across the clearing, “Okay, guys, I know you’re all really curious, but we need to figure some things out first. Later, if Lincoln’s okay with it, he can talk to some of you individually. Meantime we’ve still got some food if you’re in the middle of supper. All right?”

Scattered acknowledgements went up from the teenagers, and Octavia, by now in full possession of her faculties again, noted with amusement that some of the people who had earlier retreated from Lincoln were now eyeing him openly with obvious interest.

Clarke extended her hand, helping Octavia to her feet; Lincoln stood back up as well. With that, Wells, Bellamy, Harper, Jasper, Monty and Finn came forward to join them, and as a group with Lincoln they moved as one into the dropship proper.

Octavia led off, saying, “Okay, here’s what happened.” She looked at the group, and went on. “I went to look for the berries Wells said he found, and did some more exploring. I found a pool of water and a waterfall, which is too small to have a river beast in it. Near there is where I found Lincoln, though not for lack of trying. But I was convinced someone was following me, and he eventually decided to show up and talk to me.”

Lincoln added, “Quite a few of my people saw your vessel fall down out of the sky. I decided to come alone, as no-one else would venture near. I have been watching you almost since you arrived.”

Wells snapped his fingers. “So that _was_ you blowing the horn!”

Lincoln nodded. “We have a group of hunters who have horns to signal across the land if the yellow fog is nearby. I thought it better to risk letting you know I was near, than have some of you perish in it.”

“Thanks,” was Bellamy’s brusque acknowledgement.

“Who are ‘your people’?” wondered Clarke.

“We call ourselves the _Trikru_ , the Tree People or Woods Clan,” Lincoln explained.

“Tree Crew?” repeated Harper.

Octavia gave Lincoln a knowing grin, then turned to her friends and said, “ _Ai laik Okteivia kom Skaikru en ai laik trigspika._ ”

Lincoln chuckled at the looks of amazement Octavia got from the group, and replied, “ _Os, ba yu beda gaf mou granplei in.”_ To the group at large, he said, “We speak our own language, called _Trigedasleng_. I have already taught Octavia some of it.”

Jasper leaned in. “What did you guys say, Octavia?”

Octavia grinned. “I said, ‘I’m Octavia of the Sky People and I speak Trig’. I think Lincoln told me I need to work more on it.”

Chuckles went around the group, then subsided as Clarke asked, “Could we meet more of your people? After all, we just kind of… landed here. We didn’t expect to find anyone else – we thought the planet had been depopulated by the bombs.”

“That can be done. I can take a few of you to see Anya and Indra, the leaders of my people and the _Heda_ ’s generals.”

“Header?” wondered Monty.

“ _Heda_ ,” said Lincoln, enunciating the syllables to emphasize the tenser vowels in Trigedasleng. “Our Commander.”

 _He’s been avoiding mentioning the Mountain Men,_ Octavia realized. She bit her lip, wondering if that could pose a problem later.

Meantime, however—

“Okay, then it’s settled,” announced Bellamy. “I’ll come along, for sure. Anyone else?”

Octavia chimed in, “Me too.”

Bellamy looked like he wanted to argue, but Octavia just fixed him with a steady glare, and he subsided. Meanwhile Clarke, Wells, and Finn also added their wishes, with Finn saying, “I’m just happy nobody’s fighting.”

Monty, Harper and Jasper conferred among themselves. Harper said, “If you guys don’t mind, we’d like to stay back. Monty wants to keep working on communications. We haven’t had a reply back from the Ark yet.”

Clarke leaned in against Octavia’s shoulder, muttering, “Nothing’s changed since you went off earlier today. They’re still not sure reception’s working.”

Octavia reached out, gently holding Lincoln’s arm. She smiled and said, “Why don’t you stay here tonight? There are more people who definitely want to talk to you, and I’m sure you probably can teach us stuff, too.”

Lincoln nodded. “That would be agreeable. I can answer questions some of your other people may have.” His voice grew deeper in warning. “But this one”—he indicated Bellamy—“must not bring his _fayagon_ tomorrow.”

Bellamy frowned. “I need that. For protection. What’ve you got against it?” He made as though to adjust his gun in his pants, and Lincoln warily stepped back, clearly about to go into a defensive stance.

Octavia jumped between them and grabbed Bellamy’s arms. “Bell, _don’t_. Lincoln explained when we met, ‘cause he saw you with it and he wasn’t happy about it. They don’t like guns. It’s… well, there’s no good way to explain except that it’s a taboo.”

Harper, confused, wondered aloud, “Why, though?”

Lincoln slowly relaxed his stance again as Bellamy stepped back. Octavia, in her turn, moved to Lincoln’s side. Lincoln’s only reply was, “It is simply the way of my people.”

Octavia looked around. Clarke and Wells both clearly wore looks that suggested they thought there was more to the story: Octavia sent up a small prayer that nobody ended up tangling with the Mountain Men. Out loud, she just said, “Okay. Let’s get back out there and have a good time before bedtime, okay?” She grinned, managing to make it seem natural.

Bellamy grudgingly nodded and went to go find a place to secure his gun before returning to the group.

As they trooped back out of the dropship, Wells called out, “Some of us will be going with Lincoln to talk to more of his people. For tonight, he’ll be happy to talk to some of you, but don’t crowd around, okay?”

Good-natured catcalls and applause rose up from the gathering, and Octavia tugged at Lincoln’s arm. “C’mon, I’ll stick with you and keep them from getting too close.”

Lincoln smiled down at her. “I have no doubt of that. You have the nature of a _gona_ about you.”

Octavia didn’t know why that should please her so much, but she let the warm feeling pass through her as she brought Lincoln to the nearest small group of people. She even found herself able to nibble on some rabbit meat, as she let the sound of his voice comfort her, after so many years apart.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! This is, admittedly, a somewhat transitional chapter, so please don't be too disappointed at the lack of action or dynamic stuff happening, okay?

As Lincoln went from group to group of delinquents, explaining about food that was safe to eat, how the _Trikru_ hunted, and more (a few people inquired about his leaves, and he explained something of _Trikru_ medicine), Octavia noted with growing relief that very few, if any, of the Hundred showed hostility or suspicion. However, her relief was tempered with worry when one of them was the tall blond guy, Dax. She dimly recalled _his_ crime had actually been violent, but there wasn’t much she could do about it right then.

As she stood next to Lincoln, munching on the occasional berry or tidbit of meat, she found herself almost wanting to lean against him, and had had to unobtrusively shift away to keep from being too obvious. Not that she cared about being called a grounder pounder, but Lincoln himself wouldn’t understand why she seemed so drawn to him like that – even if he _had_ comforted her earlier. She allowed herself the small pleasure of knowing that at least he thought well of her and her willingness to learn about him and his people.

After the novelty of being around a Grounder had wound down for the majority of the delinquents, and quite a few people had gone to sleep already, Lincoln decided to sleep near the fire, by then dying down to embers. That made sense to Octavia; even the feeble light thrown by the embers would probably dissuade anyone from trying to attack him.

With that, Clarke had come back to see Octavia once more to check her over. Octavia grimaced, but let Clarke feel her forehead and check her pulse to satisfy herself Octavia wasn’t going to suddenly keel over. Clarke smiled and briefly grasped Octavia’s shoulders. “You look like you’re fine now. But _please_ remember to eat more regularly, okay? You don’t want to have a low-sugar crash or anything like that again.”

Octavia smiled back and said in a low voice, “I promise.”

She also counted it a small victory knowing she hadn’t thrown up from eating rabbit meat. _At least, thank who-knew-what that the texture of cooked meat was different enough that it didn’t call to mind…_ that. _At least, once she’d gotten over the smell._

Clarke brushed some hair away from Octavia’s forehead, using it as a pretext to check her one more time for a fever. _What was it,_ wondered Octavia, _about sane Griffins that they need to be mothers to practically everybody?_

Truth be told, in those early days when the bunker hadn’t needed a _Blodreina_ , Abby fussing over Octavia when she’d been worried about being pregnant had actually been kind of … nice. It had almost been like having a mother again, with the well-intentioned queries about her health and the semi-embarrassing questions about whether or not she’d been with any guys other than Ilian and Lincoln. ( _Not_ , thought Octavia, _that her_ actual _mother would’ve been anywhere near as gently concerned, since Octavia being with any boy on the Ark would’ve led to someone getting floated._ But Aurora Blake, when she wasn’t needling Bellamy about his responsibility to Octavia, _had_ been a decent enough mother who gave up what she could so Octavia could live.)

Now, here, on this occasion, Clarke dropped her hand and nodded to herself, satisfied. “Sleep well, Octavia. We’ve got a big day tomorrow.”

Octavia nodded. “Good night.”

With that, Octavia managed to grab one of the hammocks strung up inside the dropship, and as she stared up at the dimly moonlit ceiling, she thought again of Lincoln. His presence near her as he talked to the other teenagers had been comforting, but she hadn’t felt the same _desire_ as she had with Jasper. _Maybe_ , she decided, _she was still getting used to knowing, after six years, that he was alive again_.

After all, Jasper’s death had had nothing to do with Octavia, and they had, in any case, drifted apart after those early days when she’d helped coax him back out of his shell. She briefly chuckled, remembering when she’d convinced him a stick he was holding was an anti-grounder stick.

But Lincoln—

The loud echoing bang from Pike’s gun had ripped through her like a knife. And then she hadn’t even been able to properly mourn him; she could still remember having to force down wanting to wail and yell and just shoving it all down deep inside because _a warrior does not mourn the ones she's lost until after the battle is won_ —

Octavia shook herself out of that memory as her heart began racing. She belatedly realized her hands had clenched into fists, and with an effort, forced herself to relax again, her breaths low and steady, in—out, in—out…

She huffed a sigh and shifted in the hammock. In any case, it was up to Lincoln if he wanted to sleep with her or not. If he wanted, she would – if only to hold him in her arms one more time. But in this new world she was making anew, things had already begun changing in ways she couldn’t predict; the acid fog, for one.

It had been a bad shock realizing Bellamy and Jasper could’ve died in the acid fog instead of by other means. But luck had been with all of them them that time, even though there were dangers among the delinquents themselves.

Next time, however—

_Could she end up getting someone killed, for real?_

* * *

Octavia woke the next morning, groggily half-stumbling out of the hammock as she got her bearings. She hadn’t slept easily, but at least thank God any dreams she had, she didn’t remember. Bad enough she _remembered_ the things that she’d done, and that had happened to her – and that they seemed to blast back at her when she was conscious at the most unexpected times.

But today—

Octavia grinned. If all went well, they might just have a fighting chance at getting an alliance with the _Trikru_ and a promise of a safe landing spot in exchange for being able to take down the Mountain. So, she decided, first things first: she went to find a serviceable backpack or bag, lucking out at spotting a part of a parachute that had been too small to make into a hammock. She eyed it, deciding it wasn’t too dirty, and went to their stockpile of berries, grabbing a couple of handfuls to carry on the trip to TonDC.

She then went to go find Bellamy, who, if she remembered correctly, was sleeping outside in one of the red tents. Sure enough, as she stuck her head inside, she spotted a familiar shock of brownish-black hair poking out from a makeshift sleeping bag, and she called, “Hey Bell, time to get up!”

“Whossat? O?” mumbled Bellamy.

“Yeah, it’s me.” Octavia stepped further inside and poked his shoulder. “C’mon. I’ll see you outside. We’ve got a long walk ahead of us.”

 _At least he skipped sleeping with whoever last night_ , thought Octavia with some relief. Walking in on him with whatever girl had caught his fancy – well, best not to try and imagine how embarrassed everyone would be.

After everybody was more or less awake and functioning, Clarke went around, gathering the inner circle who’d talked to Lincoln the previous night. They coalesced together with him near the ramp to the dropship and quickly discussed who was going to do what.

As decided the previous night, Jasper and Monty wanted to get working on communications as soon as possible. Harper, for her part, wanted to teach Charlotte and some of the other younger delinquents some of the survival skills Pike had taught. She gave Octavia a knowing look, clearly remembering Octavia’s request to try and take the younger girl under her wing.

Finn seemed less enthusiastic about going with them than he had last night. Octavia frowned; he hadn’t gone off the rails until the Ark had landed and had fixated on Clarke being missing. Or—wait. She caught his gaze off towards an attractive blonde currently bending over to pick up a mug nearby one of the water bins. He began wandering off in her direction, giving the remainder of the group a sheepish half-smile.

 _Well, she_ does _have a nice ass_ , Octavia admitted to herself. _So that leaves Wells, me, Clarke, and Bellamy._

Clarke walked up to the highest part and gave a sharp, piercing whistle. Everybody turned, startled, as she loudly proclaimed, “Okay, everybody, listen up! Some of us are going to go with Lincoln to meet some more of his people. We hope to get some help and a more reliable supply of food, so in the meantime, stay close to the dropship and only hunt or gather water, fruits, and berries if you absolutely have to. And _no fighting!_ ” She cut a glance at Murphy, who grimaced at being singled out as the troublemaker in the camp.

As for the remainder, scattered acknowledgements rose up from the crowd, and Octavia could see quite a few people nodding at Clarke’s words. She surreptitiously looked at Dax, who was nodding perfunctorily. _Nothing that can be done now,_ she decided. The ramp clattered with Clarke’s footsteps as she came back down and stood, facing Lincoln.

Clarke wore a coat she’d scrounged up from somewhere, and like Octavia, was carrying a bag of rations for the day trip. She smiled at Lincoln and said, “So, shall we?”

Lincoln nodded. “We will be going to one of our larger towns: _Tondisi_. I know Indra will be there, but I’m not certain about Anya. In either case, they have the authority of _Heda_ behind them, so it is with either of them you must talk.” Noting Bellamy’s presence, he asked, “Have you left your weapon behind?”

Bellamy grimaced, but replied, “Yes. I’ve left it with Jasper and Monty.” Octavia thought it sounded just a tiny bit grudgingly sulky, but at least he wasn’t trying to sneak it along. And she knew it would stay safely locked up with those two in charge of it (neither of them being comfortable with firearms).

Without further ado or commentary, Lincoln set off at a fairly brisk pace. After a moment, the others hastily fell into step, single file, down the pathway he took away from the dropship camp. Octavia ended up following Bellamy and being ahead of Wells, who was bringing up the rear. Clarke had managed to fall in step right behind Lincoln and ahead of Bellamy.

Before long, Clarke was putting questions to Lincoln about how their medicine worked, and while Lincoln wasn’t quite as accomplished a _fisa_ as Nyko, he was no slouch either, and from what Octavia could hear filtering back to her, Clarke was picking up some handy tips about the medicinal benefits of the local plant life.

Bellamy, for his part, asked only a few questions but one of them was about farming. Octavia’s ears pricked up as she tuned in: she’d heard some stuff about Grounder farms from Ilian (when they weren’t busy doing other stuff in his bed), but it was interesting learning from Lincoln that trade between the _Trikru_ and _Trishanakru_ had partly sprouted up many years ago because the latter people had better farmland, while the _Trikru_ were good wildlife hunters and so could supply meats and furs.

The walk was pleasant, with the sunlight filtering in through the trees above, as Lincoln led them on routes that looked comparatively well-travelled with few traps to catch the unwary. Octavia tried keeping an eye out for any _Maunon_ , but the dark green of their environmental suits did make it hard to really catch one out the corner of her eye, and she didn’t need Wells picking up on her wariness.

Octavia worried her lip. _God, I just hope Lincoln not telling us about the Mountain Men doesn’t bite us all in the ass later. Nothing to be done for it now, though._

Any further thought was cut off as Clarke exclaimed, “I see houses ahead! Is that your town, TonDC?”

Lincoln replied, “Not quite. It’s the village I come from, and we’ll pass through it to get to TonDC itself.”

As they entered the village, the _Skaikru_ got wary looks. Lincoln called, “ _En’s ku, yo. Emo laik kofon en ai sis em au kom soujon gon Tondisi!_ ”

The villagers noticeably relaxed, and Octavia guessed that this village (which was so small as to not even have an official name so far as she could remember) probably didn’t see a lot of non- _Trikru_ passing through. Wells tapped her shoulder, asking, “Octavia, did you understand any of that?”

Octavia shrugged. “Not really. I think he was telling them we’re all right and we’re just passing though, ‘cause I heard the TonDC at the end.”

Wells smiled. “Well, it looks like I’ll need to get some lessons myself, huh?”

Octavia grinned. “Maybe you’ll get yourself a Grounder girlfriend – or boyfriend, if you swing that way.”

She couldn’t tell if Wells was blushing, but he did look away momentarily, his interest suddenly occupied by the corrugated iron used as part of a roof for the village’s food stores.

And not a minute later, they were out of the village again and back into the wilderness, the sounds of people talking and working fading away into the background.

 _The sounds of peace,_ Octavia mused. _Before the Sky People came like a serpent into the Garden of Eden._

She allowed that that wasn’t _totally_ fair, since Grounders had their own disputes and troubles, but every conflict since then had become enormously intensified because of the unsettling influence of a technologically sophisticated people whose very bodies had become a gold mine to be plundered by the Mountain Men, and then xenophobia in the person of Charles Pike had completely sundered any chance of _Skaikru_ getting a chance to prove their worth in a battle which would have seen the last of _Azgeda_ ’s ambitions smashed to pieces.

Bellamy would probably know better than her which exact mythological parallel to invoke, but as far as Octavia was concerned, the serpent was going to be a rather different animal this time around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> En’s ku, yo. Emo laik kofon en ai sis em au kom soujon gon Tondisi! : It's all right, everybody. They're traders and I'm helping them get to TonDC!
> 
> If you'd like to drop a line instead of leaving a review, I'm **blogquantumreality** on Tumblr!


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